Fool Me Twice
by DawnieS
Summary: Lily Evans is pretty, intelligent, vivacious… and accused of murder. James Potter is privileged, arrogant, and conceited… and her best chance at avoiding Azkaban. If only he wasn't convinced of her guilt.
1. The Death of Remus Lupin

Fool Me Twice

Warnings: Um... character death? But that should be pretty obvious from the title of the first chapter...

Summary: Lily Evans is pretty, vivacious, intelligent… and accused of murder. James Potter is arrogant, cocky, privileged… and her best chance at avoiding Azkaban. If only he wasn't convinced of her guilt. With a war looming in the background and evil slowly seeping into the wizarding world, seven years of secrets unravel, and two very different people find themselves caught up in a battle against privilege, intolerance, and greed. But even in the darkness, and even in the despair, there is still friendship, and love, and hope.

* * *

_Fool me once, shame on thee.  
Fool me twice, shame on me._

Chapter One: The Death of Remus Lupin

_All she can do is stand there, frozen in denial._

_The room is dark and cold, the damp night air coming in through an open window. There is the smell of something in the air, something bitter and almost metallic. She knows what it is, even if she won't let her mind think those words._

_The floor is uneven, the floorboards warped with age and too wet weather and bad insulation. They are covered in a threadbare rug, see-through in places, loose strings hanging off the edges. The bed is second-hand, she knows, and the mattress is lumpy and hard in all the wrong places. A lamp is overturned, and the far cabinet's doors are swung open, one of them nearly torn from its hinges._

_The floor had dark splotches on it. Her robes, too, have splotches, and there is red on her arms and the palm of one hand and she knows what it is but still…_

_All she can do is stand there, frozen in horror._

_Her eyes move past the bed, to the corner. She can't see what is there, lying on the floor behind the bed, but it doesn't matter. She's already seen it, and the memory is burned into her mind, so bright and so vivid that all she has to do is shut her eyes and she can see every single detail etched out on the backs of her lids._

_The silence of the room envelops her. Too silent. In it, she can hear the echoes of their fights, of the last words she said to him, of the anger that went back even further, to events that happened years ago._

_There is red on her face, too, she notices as she glances at her reflection in the broken mirror. Dots of it, splatters across her forehead and one cheek. She almost reaches up to wipe it away, but sees the red on her fingers and stops._

_All she can do is stand there, frozen in memory._

_She hates this room. She hates everything about it, from the too-small doorway to the too-large window, and most of all, she hates the fact that he lived here, that he was probably living in places like this for _years_._

_She stands still, a silent witness to the tragedy that happened in the room as the hours pass and the moon begins its slow descent towards the horizon. She stands there as the sunlight begins to creep over the distant hills. She stands there as the neighbors come from their houses and pass by…_

_And is still standing there, much later, when the Aurors arrive.

* * *

_

Frank Longbottom had been an Auror for only a few years, and it was already getting to be more than he could handle.

The others on his team often laughed jovially with each other, had late suppers or drinks at a pub, and spent weekends and holidays visiting with the others' families. It was easier for them, he knew, because they had people to go home to at the end of the day. People to listen to their stories, to whisper comforting words in their ears when everything became too much for them.

He didn't have that. He had himself, and that was all, and lately, it wasn't enough.

Standing in the torn-apart bedroom belonging to the late Remus Lupin, Frank had to fight back the urge to run. The air was hot, the unrelenting sun beating down through the window, and the smell of blood filled his nostrils. The room itself was cramped, filled with two other Aurors, a Healer who was standing about doing nothing now that her services were clearly not needed, two reporters trying to push their way through the door, and…

The body.

He looked at it again.

It had been three years since he had seen Remus Lupin. The wizard had grown gaunt and haggard in those years. There were deep lines on his face, and something about his body seemed to give off an aura of suffering.

And then there was the blood.

It clung to his robes and spread out in a pool across the floor. It splattered on the bed, on the cabinet, on the broken mirror. It was dried now, but it had been fresh in the beginning, when he had first been found. There was a footprint in the blood near his head.

There was no weapon to be found.

The fatal wound was clearly made by a knife. There had been a struggle, that much was evident from the state of the room. But the knife was gone, hidden or destroyed by the murderer at some point after the crime took place.

"Longbottom."

Frank glanced up at the sound of his name. It was one of the reporters, a mousy-haired man that Frank recognized vaguely as a journalist for the Daily Prophet.

"Is it true that you knew Remus Lupin?"

"No comment," Frank answered automatically.

"Get them out of here, Bagley," Auror Moody, Frank's superior said, jerking his head at the reporters. Christian Bagley, the other Auror present, complied quickly and began attempting to shepherd the reports from the room. They didn't want to leave, however, and were shouting questions even as they were escorted from the house.

"Is it true that Lily Evans has been arrested for the crime?"

"Has she confessed?"

"Does Mr. Lestrange know?"

Frank slammed the door shut on them and walked back to the body. He didn't want to think about Lily Evans or Rudolphus Lestrange.

But he couldn't deny that it would come up. After all, they had found Lily standing there, staring blankly about her, Remus' blood sticking to her skin and clothing. It reminded him too much of what had happened seven years ago, and even though Lily had been one of his closest friends, even though he knew she loved Remus deeply, even though he couldn't believe that she would do something like this…

Bagley came back into the room. "Do you think Evans did it, Frank?" he asked, pausing just long enough to ask the question before stepping over to the body.

Even Moody stopped what he was doing and glanced quickly at Frank, waiting for an answer.

Frank stared at Remus' pale skin, closed eyes. The wizard had once been a friend of his, before _that_ night. How many evenings had they spent swapping stories and chocolate frog cards, laughing over the others antics? But it had been seven years since they had been friends, and three years since they had seen each other, and Frank didn't know his one-time friend anymore. Didn't know a thing about him.

Just like he didn't know Lily.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"You can take the body now," Moody said, nodding to the Healer. "I think we've got everything we need here."

The Healer nodded and stepped forward, and Bagley moved away from the body. Standing next to Frank, he said grimly, "Well, if Evans is involved in this, Lestrange is going to get involved as well. Merlin knows he's been wanting a second chance to get her for a while now."

Frank nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice low. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to remember how Lestrange's accusations and Lily's continued proclamations of innocence had torn them all apart.

"Longbottom, any idea of where Lupin has been these past three years? Or why he's back?" Moody asked sharply.

Frank shook his head. "I haven't spoken to him since he left," he answered.

"Do you know if Evans knew where he was or why he was back?" Moody pressed.

Again, Frank shook his head. "I haven't spoken to _her_ since he left, either."

Moody pressed his lips together and surveyed the room. He was an imposing figure, with a magical false eyeball to replace the one lost in a battle with Dark wizards years earlier, and long scars covering his neck and the side of his face. Frank had never asked where the scars had come from, nor why they weren't treated with dittany or some other potion that could reduce their appearance. Moody reveled in his reputation as a stern and fierce Auror, and Frank knew better than to ask questions that were not directly relevant to the task at hand.

"That would be useful information to have," Moody said at last. "Longbottom, talk to Evans and find out what she knew." Frank opened his mouth to protest, desperately wanting to avoid any conversation with the red-haired witch. But Moody did not give him a chance to object, continuing, "This will get Lestrange's attention, and I don't want to be the one to tell him we don't have all the facts. It'll get the Daily Prophet's attention, too, so lets make sure we do this thoroughly, alright?"

Frank bit his lip, but agreed, "Yes, sir." It wasn't like he really had a choice.

As he walked from the room, he heard Bagley remark to the Healer who was now levitating Remus' dead body towards the door, "Not every day you see a murder like this, is it?"

Frank didn't hear the reply, but he could not argue with the comment. It was a magical world, after all, so who would bother killing someone with a knife? The killing curse was a lot more efficient and a lot less messy.

He looked down at his shoes. They had done their best not to contaminate the crime scene, but there were a few specks of red on the toe of one shoe, drops of blood that had once coursed through Remus' veins.

Quite suddenly, he thought he might be sick.

He exited the house quickly, blinking in the hot sunlight. They had erected an anti-Apparition ward and stationed a few officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to keep reporters and gossipmongers from rushing to see the scene of the crime. At the edge of the wards, he could see several people milling about, eagerly awaiting any tidbits of information they could glean. As always, the more lurid and horrifying the crime, the more excited people were for details.

"Auror Longbottom!" the same reporter from before called out his name. "Can you comment on…"

Frank pushed past him, then spun around and said angrily, "No, I _can't_!" and began walking away again, not bothering to wait for the reporter to finish the question.

"Is this in any way related to the death of Lucius Malfoy?" another reported yelled, and that was the last thing Frank heard before he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

* * *

Rodolphus Lestrange looked up from the pile of parchment on his desk as the door to his office was unceremoniously flung open and a breathless wizard came racing in, face flushed darkly.

"Rabastan," he greeted, placing his quill on his desk and rising to his feet. His dark eyes studied his brother's expression carefully, noting the anticipation flashing almost wildly in the other's gaze. "What brings you to the Ministry?" he drawled. "You tend to despise government."

"Have you heard?" Rabastan asked, closing the door firmly behind him and waving his wand about, silently casting several anti-eavesdropping spells.

"Heard what?" Rodolphus asked curiously. He had always been the more studious of the siblings, and as such, he had advanced quickly through the Ministry while his brother still spent most of his time trying to figure out how to avoid work. In the past few years, he had only seen Rabastan when the other was asking for money.

Rabastan grinned. "Remus Lupin is dead," he announced, proclaiming the news as though it was the best thing he had ever heard.

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow. Remus Lupin was a poverty-stricken half-breed, and though Rodolphus would hardly _grieve_ for the other's death, he did not find the news to be particularly interesting. At least not interesting enough to warrant the interruption in his work. In fact, had it not been for that one event seven years ago, he might not even recognize the name. Lupin was beneath him.

And yet, it was true, of course, that Lupin was a reminder of that long-ago case that had gone awry, and just thinking of it made his blood boil. It may have been seven years, but it still galled him to think that he had not succeeded at what should have been such a simple task.

He sat back down at his desk with a weary sigh. To his brother, he said, "Interesting. But not interesting enough to warrant a visit from you."

Rabastan laughed, almost delightedly. "Ah… but just wait. The filth was found dead, murdered with a knife. Such a Muggle weapon, don't you think?" He dropped into the seat across from Rodolophus and placed his elbows on the desk. "And there was blood everywhere. On his body, his robes, the floor of his bedroom… and on the person who killed him."

"Someone has confessed?" Rodolphus asked, eyebrows coming together. "Then it _really_ is no concern of mine. I may be a barrister, Rabastan, but I do not need to prosecute in this case."

"She hasn't confessed."

"She?" That caught Rodolphus' attention, and he couldn't help the thrill that ran down his spine.

"Of course," Rabastan pressed, smirking, "she was found standing over his dead body, covered in his blood. So it seems likely there is only one conclusion to draw from _that_."

"Are you saying…?" Rodolphus started, and then stopped, because some part of him couldn't believe it. He had spent so long looking for another way to ruin her, but she hadn't slipped up. Not once. Seven years, and he hadn't been able to find _anything_ to use against her and now…

Now she had handed him his second chance without him having to do anything about it.

"How do you know all this?" he asked, switching thoughts and giving his brother a critical look.

Rabastan shrugged his shoulders. "I know what I know," he answered enigmatically, and Rodolphus didn't bother to press for details. His brother was often involved in petty crime and with petty criminals, and it came as no surprise that he would know this sort of thing even before it was picked up by the Daily Prophet.

"And what you're saying is that you know that…" Rodolphus prompted, because he had to hear the words before he would finally let himself believe.

"Yes," Rabastan finished. "Lily Evans has just been arrested for the murder of Remus Lupin. And if you grab it now, you could be the one prosecuting the case."

Rodolphus nearly laughed at that. There was no need to rush. The Ministry employed a few lawyers to prosecute suspects, but it was unlikely that anyone else would even _think_ of taking this particular case. Everyone knew his history with Lily Evans. Everyone knew this was his battle. His second chance.

And this time, he was going to _crush_ her.


	2. Prisoners of Madness

Chapter Two: Prisoners of Madness

Azkaban was cold.

It was always the first thing Rodolphus noticed as he entered the fortress prison. In his line of work, he had only ever been here a few times, and he certainly did not relish it. Stepping through the stone doors and into the prison was like entering another world, and the cold slammed into him first, taking his breath away.

The smells came after. The mildew and mold that grew in the crevices between the stones, the staleness in the air, the faint scent of smoke and sweat and something else unidentifiable.

And then _they_ came.

The Dementors never came too close, for which he was glad. He could catch occasional glimpses of them, dark shapes disappearing around a corner, ethereal figures that floated along the floor, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

He felt their effects, though, even when they weren't in sight. They leeched the happiness from his body, replacing it with gloom and pain and despair, emotions that ran through him and left him trembling and weak. It was for that very reason that he despised the Dementors, that he wanted nothing to do with them.

He hated to be weak.

The Auror who walked in front of him seemed not to notice the Dementors. Perhaps he had been stationed at Azkaban for so long that he had gone insane along with the prisoners here. Or maybe he just didn't have any bad memories for the Dementors to make him relive. Either way, he was somehow able to stroll along with a smile on his face, his steps almost jaunty.

"So…" the Auror said at last, glancing over at Rodolphus with a smirk, "Evans, huh? Got your second chance after all."

Rodolphus narrowed his eyes at the other wizard. "So it would seem," he agreed coolly.

It was forbidden to enter Azkaban without the permission of the warden and without the accompaniment of one of the Aurors stationed there, but Rodolphus would have rather been left alone. He didn't like making pointless conversation with people he didn't know, and he didn't like the subject of the conversation.

But, of course, he knew he would hear these sorts of comments quite a bit in the coming weeks. The brutality of this murder had made it front page news, and the identity of the accused had set tongues wagging, eager to spread the gossip.

"Unless she pulls one over on you again," the Auror chortled, shaking his head with amusement. But then he caught sight of the murderous look on Rodolophus' face, and swallowed audibly, realizing his comment had only served to annoy the other wizard.

He quickened his steps, and Rodolphus did likewise, both eager to reach their destination.

A sudden scream ripped through the air, bouncing off the stone walls and echoing along the corridor. It was accompanied by the sound of chains rattling, or fingers scratching in vain against the wall. They had passed through the entrance and into the corridors that housed prisoners.

Rodolphus glanced at the nearest cell. The door to the cell was made of heavy metal, and no doubt enchanted with several spells to make it unbreakable. There was a small window, complete with heavy metal bars, in the top third of the door, allowing Rodolphus a brief glance of an emancipated figure hunched in the far corner.

They continued down the hallway, and Rodolophus turned his face away so that he would not need to see the prisoners. They were filth, most of them, and he didn't want to waste time thinking about them.

There was another scream, this one deeper and filled with pain. It cut off halfway through, turning into a choked, gurgling sound. It was then followed by a laugh, an insane cackle that was almost harder to bear then the screams.

The Auror didn't seem to notice.

The hallway grew colder as they arrived at a flight of steps. Flickering torches hung on the walls, casting a faint glow along the stairs, illuminating dust and mildew and stains. At the very stop of the stairs, a dark figure glided away, a Dementor moving on to the next victim.

Rodolphus shuddered in the cold, but then forced himself to still and followed the Auror up the stairs. The staircase spiraled around, and opened up onto another floor, this one almost identical to the one below, except for the nearly freezing temperature, a sign that the Dementors spent more time here.

The Auror pointed to one of the doors a few meters from them. "There. That is the prisoner's cell."

Rodolphus set his lips into a thin line and stared at the door with barely concealed triumph. "Thank you," he said. "You will wait here, I do not wish to have anyone else in on this conversation."

The Auror chuckled. "Whatever you like, Mr. Lestrange. Just as long as she's still in one piece when you leave." And he leaned back against the grime-covered wall, folding his arms over his chest, content to wait.

Rodolphus smiled a bit at that statement and walked forward briskly. The Auror might expect him to attack Evans at the first opportunity, but _that_ actually wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a trial, he wanted to draw it out as long as possible so that she would see the noose tightening around her neck and be unable to do anything about it. So that she would spend weeks waiting for the inevitable, no longer in control of her own life or fate. He wanted to make her suffer.

He paused at the indicated door and peered through the bars into the cell. The room was small and dirty. There was a metal cot without a mattress on one side, and the back wall had a small window placed near the very top of the cell. The icy wind came whistling through the tiny window, bringing the smell of saltwater with it.

Lily Evans was sitting on the edge of the cot. Her clothes were torn in places, and her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest as though in a futile attempt to keep out the cold. Her red hair was a mess, full of tangles and knots that fell wildly around her face. She wasn't looking at him, and he could not see her expression.

"Hello, Evans," he said.

She did not lift her head, but instead continued to stare down at the floor as she answered, "Lestrange. I was wondering when you would arrive."

Rodolphus lifted his eyebrows at the comment, then said sardonically, "I do hope I did not keep you waiting _too_ long."

She did not respond to the mocking in his voice. When she spoke, her tone was flat, devoid of emotion. "What do you want?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" he sneered.

She looked at him then. Her green eyes were full of fire, something that took him a bit by surprise. He had heard that most prisoners went mad within days of arriving at Azkaban, but that it only took hours for the effects of the Dementors to destroy their will. And yet Evans was glaring at him, her expression filled with passion and fury and emotions he assumed she would not be able to muster after having been here for twenty-four hours.

She rose to her feet, her arms falling to her sides, and walked to the door of the cell. They were close, separated only by the few inches of metal between them, but he had a wand and she didn't, and he couldn't help but grin.

"And shouldn't you be happy?" Evans questioned softly. "It might not be common knowledge among everyone else, but _you_ knew what Remus was. I thought you would be _celebrating_ his demise."

"I am," Rodolphus agreed readily enough. "And not just because it rids the world of one more bit of filth. I must admit, I am celebrating the chance to rid the world of you, too."

Evans looked away for a moment, collecting her wits. When she faced him again, her eyes were taunting. "Like you attempted to do last time? What makes you think you'll have better luck now?"

His fingers tightened automatically around his wand. He would have hexed her right then, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much that question had gotten under his skin.

"Call it a hunch," he answered in a voice of forced calm. "So tell me, Evans, why _did_ you kill him?"

"I didn't," she spat.

Rodolphus laughed. "Like you didn't kill Lucius Malfoy? You might have gone free once, Evans, but you won't this time." He adopted a look of mock-contemplation, and then said, "But I forgot. You professed your innocence of _that_ crime, too. It's funny, though, how often the people around you seem to end up dead."

"I _didn't_ kill Malfoy," Evans snapped. "And you're just bitter because you weren't able to get me convicted all those years ago." She leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. "It hurts, doesn't it? Being so sure of something and then finding out that you're wrong."

"I wasn't wrong," Rodolphus snarled.

"And yet I was cleared of all charges," Evans answered. "Have you been dwelling on _that_ for seven years?"

"You may have weaseled your way out of trouble once," Rodolphus said, "but you did not escape unscathed. How many friends stayed by your side after that trial, Evans? Everyone _knew_ that you were guilty, even if you went free. Only Lupin believed you, and now you've killed him, too."

"I didn't kill Remus!"

Rodolphus laughed callously at the desperation in Evans' voice. Her eyes were wide and wild, her composure abruptly gone, and he did not hesitate to twist the knife a little deeper.

"Tell me, why did you choose a knife as your weapon? Did you want to do things the Muggle way? Pay tribute to your dirty roots?"

"I didn't…"

"Did you enjoy watching his blood spill out over your hands? Did you feel triumph when he took his last, shuddering breath and fell still? Did you celebrate the moment his heartbeat stilled? Are you happy now? Or do you hear his screams when the Dementors get close?"

He watched with glee as Evans stiffened. She stared at him for a long minute, the pain and anger written clearly across her expressive features. Then she turned away from him and walked back to the cot, wrapping her arms around herself once more.

They were both silent for a long moment, Rodolphus regarding the redheaded prisoner, and Evans staring blankly at the ground.

Then he said, "You will go mad eventually, you know. Everyone does. This place takes your sanity first."

She did not look at him as she replied, "So I've heard. But you still haven't told me. What do you want?"

Rodolphus shrugged casually. "I just wanted to see you, Evans. I wanted to… catch up on old times."

She gave a dry chuckle in response. "Did you now?"

He glanced over his shoulder at the Auror who was still waiting for him to finish the interview. The other wizard looked rather bored, but he winked when he saw Rodolphus staring at him. It was clear that the entire situation amused him.

"I just wanted you to know that I am going to destroy you this time," he said finally, looking back at Evans. "I wanted you to know that you will pay for this crime."

"And, again, I wonder why you are so incensed. Another werewolf dead. You should be _happy_."

"I am, Evans. Believe me, I am."

She did not look at him, and he lingered only a moment more to gaze at her, then he turned on his heel and walked away from the door. The Auror moved immediately to his side, and together, they left the fortress prison.

* * *

On a few occasions, Frank had been forced to enter Azkaban for the purposes of collecting information or statements from prisoners there. It was part of his job as an Auror, and without a doubt one of the parts he disliked the most. As much as possible, he passed along those errands to anyone else, eager to stay away from the dismal fortress and the creatures that lived there.

But he couldn't do that with this case.

It had not been hard to obtain permission from the warden, and he was greeted as soon as he arrived at the gates. He glanced at the Auror who had come out to meet him, and nodded his head once in greeting.

"Crowley."

Auror Crowley grinned. "Evans is popular today, eh Longbottom?"

Frank pulled his cloak tightly around him, shivering slightly. The air that came from the surrounding sea carried drops of frozen water with it, but it was a different coldness that he could feel now. Something settled heavily into his body, chilling him to the bone.

"Who else came?" he asked, ducking beneath the wrought iron gates and stepping into the prison itself.

"Lestrange," Crowley answered with a grin. "He talked to Evans for a bit. Don't know what they said to each other, but I have a few guesses."

Frank nodded and let out a long breath, trying to expel the tension from his body. It didn't really work.

"Lestrange didn't say what he wanted?" Frank asked.

Crowley laughed. "What he wants is a redo of the last seven years. He doesn't have to say that for all of us to know it."

Frank accepted that in silence. The bitter enmity that had existed between Lily and Lestrange all those years ago had not faded much, but Lily had at least been smart enough to keep her head down and stay out of Lestrange's way. He was a powerful man, and not someone to be crossed.

The corridor was dimly lit, but even the faint light was enough for Frank to see the droplets of moisture that gathered along the walls, dripping endlessly to the ground. The floor was damp enough to be slippery, but he was used to it, and walked briskly behind the other Auror, his thoughts on Lily.

As they entered the first of the corridors that housed prisoners, there was a hoarse cry, and a body flung itself against the wall of a cell. Frank turned instinctively towards the noise, his hand moving to his wand. Crowley gave the cell a disdainful look and did not pause or even slow down his pace.

Frank glanced behind him as saw two Dementors gliding forward towards the cell in question. There was another cry from within, and the scraping of metal on stone. Then the cries turned into a shriek of rage, almost inhuman in its volume and intensity.

The Dementors stood on either side of the cell, but Frank and Crowley turned the corner and were no longer able to see what was happening.

Frank shivered and tried to push those thoughts from mind. He did not wish to dwell on the fate of the prisoners here.

They entered a spiraling staircase, and Crowley slanted a quick look at Frank before asking, "So why do you think she did it?"

Frank pressed his lips into a flat line, and replied, "She hasn't been convicted yet."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "She's guilty, Longbottom. You know that as well as I do. As well as everybody does."

Frank didn't say anything. It _was_ hard to imagine any reason why Lily would have turned on Remus, but he could not deny that the evidence was incriminating.

"Come on, Longbottom. You knew her. You were friends with her. You must have some suspicion."

But Frank shook his head wearily, refusing to answer Crowley's questions. He would have to deal with the gossipmongers sooner or later, but he'd rather delay it for now.

He had to talk to Lily first.

When they finally arrived at the corridor that housed Lily's cell, Crowley pointed to the appropriate door, and then leaned against the stone wall, arms folded over his chest, expression bemused.

Frank walked forward quickly. There was a small window in the door, complete with a row of bars to prevent any chance of escape. In between the bars, he could see the cell, and Lily, sitting on the metal cot. She looked up as he approached, and their eyes met, and for a moment, Frank thought she might burst into tears.

Instead, she rose unsteadily to her feet and crossed to stand before him. "Frank," she murmured. "You look… well."

He hadn't seen her in three years, and yet she hadn't changed. Not the way Remus had. There were shadows under her eyes and a haunted look in her face, but those, he assumed, could be attributed to the death of one of her friends. Other than that, she was still how he remembered her, with vivid green eyes and brilliantly red hair that cold not be tamed by any styling product. When she smiled at him, that same shy, unsure smile she had given the day they first met when they were both eleven, he couldn't help but smile back.

And then the weight of the situation came crashing back onto his shoulders, and his expression grew somber.

"This is bad, Lily," he said.

She licked her lips. "I know what it looked like, Frank. But I didn't…" She stopped, studied his face for a long moment, then said in an incredulous voice, "You think I might be guilty. You actually think I might have killed him."

Frank met her gaze steadily. "Did you?"

"_No_!" she spat venomously. "How can you ask me that? I _loved_ Remus."

"And you were found standing over his dead body, covered in his blood," Frank answered pointedly. "And I'm not sure you appreciate just how bad that looks."

Lily leaned forward, resting her hands on the door. "I loved him," she said again, tears pooling in her eyes.

Frank hesitated, then said, "Do you know where he has been for the last three years?"

Lily shook her head. "N-no. He… after…" She seemed to need to stop again, to gather her words carefully. Frank waited patiently, but his heart was beating rapidly and his breath was growing more and more uneven.

A few tears escaped Lily's eyes and slid down her face.

"That night… we fought. You were only there for part of it. It was… bad. I told Remus I never wanted to see him again, and he just… he left."

Frank let his thoughts wander back to that night, three years ago, when Remus and Lily had both been yelling at each other, upset and furious. It had been the last time that he had seen Remus, although their friendship was almost completely ruined by that point anyway. It had been steadily unraveling for years, only kept alive because of his relationship with Lily.

"You haven't seen him since then? He didn't contact you?"

Lily shook her head. "I haven't seen you since that night, either." She sagged a little, energy slowly leaving her. "I don't know where he went or what he was doing," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Frank. I just… I don't know."

"_You_ didn't try to contact _him_?" Frank pressed.

Again, Lily shook her head. "Oh… Merlin, Frank, what happened to us? We used to be such good friends…"

Frank's expression hardened, and when he spoke, his words were flat and blunt. "You were accused of murdering Lucius Malfoy, Alice was killed, and Remus disappeared. That's what happened to us, Lily."

Lily turned away from him and walked back to the cot. It was a small enough cell that neither of them needed to raise their voice for the other to hear, even with her on the opposite side of the tiny room. Frank leaned forward, curling his fingers around the bars, and waited.

But Lily apparently had nothing left to say.

"Why were you at Remus' home?" he asked finally.

"I… he sent an owl. Said he was back. I wanted to see him, wanted to… I don't know. Make it right?" She blinked a few times, tilting her head to the side to stare at Frank. "When I got there, he was already dead. And I just… froze. I didn't know what to do. I'd loved him, Frank, and then I hadn't seen him in three years. And now's he… now he's dead and I just didn't know what to do."

Frank frowned. "Okay," he said, knowing that some of his disbelief had probably crept into his voice.

She gave him a hard look. "You think I killed him, don't you?"

"I don't know what to think," Frank admitted.

"I loved him. I would _never_ hurt him," Lily said firmly, her pale face flushing with anger.

Frank heaved a sigh. "I know what I know," he answered. "And it makes it hard to believe you."

* * *

Marlene McKinnon sauntered into the small law office were her boss worked, a copy of the Daily Prophet clutching in one hand. She was smiling, or perhaps a more accurate description would be to say she was smirking triumphantly. As the door closed behind her, she crossed the floor and placed the Daily Prophet down on the desk in front of her boss.

"I've got it."

James Potter looked up with one eyebrow raised. "You've got what?" he asked in a faintly bored tone.

His uninterested did nothing to dampen her spirits. "Read this," she instructed, tapping her finger against the article on the front page of the paper. "Go on, read it."

James scanned the article. "Lily Evans accused of murdering Remus Lupin." He frowned and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Evans. Why does that sound familiar?"

"She was accused of killing Lucius Malfoy seven years ago. Remember? Lestrange was the one who prosecuted the case, but she went free. He didn't have enough to convince the Wizengamot."

James nodded slowly. He'd been young then, only a few years out of Hogwarts and still unsure what he wanted to do with his life. He hadn't been even remotely interested in law, and had paid little attention to that particular case. But he did remember it. The entire country was at least somewhat familiar with it.

"So what of it?" James asked.

"You need to be her counsel," Marlene explained with a broad smile.

His eyes widened. "I… what? You want me to do be counsel for the defense in a case against Lestrange? A case that is personal for him." He snorted and pushed the paper aside. "Merlin, Lena, are you sure you're not trying to put me _out_ of business?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "You live off your inheritance from your parents and you only work part-time. And only when you like the cases. What do you care if this lowers business for you for a couple years? This is the chance of a lifetime."

"Yeah. The chance to give Lestrange one more reason to hate me. As though he doesn't have enough of those already," James grumbled under his breath. The Potter family was as pureblooded as they come, and it was clearly infuriating to Lestrange that he could not get the sole remaining Potter to agree with his pureblood-supremacist beliefs. James had spoke out against some of Lestrange's proposed legislation a few too many times.

"He's going to hate you no matter what," Marlene answered pointedly. "So you might as well get some use out of it."

James sighed. Marlene had been his assistant since he opened this practice, and she was invaluable in both his work as a barrister and his work as a politician. Her family was powerful, both in politics and in magic. When he told people that Marlene McKinnon worked for him, they were almost always impressed. And, of course, it helped that she was absolutely stunning, and heads would frequently turn every time she entered a room.

She was also stubborn. She had good ideas, and so it was usually worth listening to her, but even if James didn't want to hear what she had to say, she would not give in until he was forced to put aside whatever he was doing and give her his full attention.

"And what exactly do I stand to gain by being Evans' counsel?" James demanded wearily, knowing he wouldn't get out of this conversation without playing along for at least a few minutes.

Marlene grinned like the proverbial cat with the canary. "You don't want to be doing this forever, do you?" she asked casually, gesturing to the cluttered office. "I mean, eventually you want to work at the Ministry."

"Yes. So?"

She leaned forward. "Imagine what people would say if you beat Lestrange. In a couple years time, you could probably get yourself appointed Head of one of the Ministry Departments. And I don't just mean an assistant. I mean a _Head_."

That caught his attention. "You really think so?"

Marlene nodded. She had good instincts when it came to politics, and James had learned to trust her on this sort of thing.

"Think about it. Everyone knows that Lestrange is angling for the Minister's job. And if he gets it… You know there is no way you're getting _any_ position in the Ministry as long as he is in power. But if you can win this trial, if you can get Evans acquitted, Lestrange is going to fall a bit in popularity. And you're going to be the new talk of the town."

"Yeah, but what if Evans is guilty?" James pointed out.

Marlene sighed. "You're a barrister. It's not your job to care if she is innocent or guilty. All you need to do is get her acquitted." She tilted her chin up and looked at James defiantly. "And so what if she is? I'd rather let her go free than stand by and do nothing while Lestrange adds one more victory to his lists and moves that much closer to being in control of the Ministry."

James considered this for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. While he didn't particularly like the idea of letting a murderer walk free, he couldn't deny that it _was_ necessary to do anything possible to keep Lestrange from being appointed Minister. And not just for his own political aspirations. He knew the type of person Lestrange was and it sickened him to think what the other wizard would do if he had enough power.

"I'll think about it," he said finally.

Marlene gave him a critical look, then said with a sweet smile, "We both know you've already made up your mind. But I guess if you want to pretend like you're still thinking about it, I can go along with that."

James laughed. "Get back to work, Marlene," he said with mock outrage.

She winked at him, then began bustling about the office, getting things ready.

James stared down at the Daily Prophet, at the picture splashed across the front page. It showed Lily Evans being led out of a room by several Aurors, her clothes stained with blood. He was actually going to pick a fight with Rodolphus Lestrange over a woman he didn't know, one who was probably guilty of murder anyway.

He had to be mental. There was really no other explanation for it.

* * *

"Have you heard, Cissy?"

Narcissa Malfoy looked up from where she was sitting in her lavishly decorated parlor at Malfoy Manor. The cup of tea she had been drinking was held delicately in one hand, and the other rested in her lap. She had a far away look in her eyes and, in fact, her thoughts had been wandering about until her sister's sudden appearance.

"Bella," she greeted coolly. "Have I heard what?"

Bellatrix Lestrange swept into the room, her lips twisted into a gleeful smirk. "Lily Evans has been arrested for murder," she announced.

For a brief moment, Narcissa's emotionless façade crumbled, and something akin to shock showed in her pale eyes. Then she quickly slipped the mask over her features once more and asked, "Of whom?"

"Remus Lupin."

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then gave a thin smile. "I suppose your husband will be prosecuting the case?"

Bellatrix nodded. "We may not have been able to avenge Lucius' death, Cissy, but we will send Evans to Azkaban. Rodolphus might even seek the Kiss."

Narcissa nodded. "Good."

Bellatrix settled herself into the seat across from her younger sister. Her dark beauty stood in stark contrast to her sister's pale looks, so much so that it was almost impossible to see the resemblance based on physical characteristics alone. But there was something there, beneath the surface. A casual disregard for everyone else, a sense of superiority, that both women shared.

Naricssa placed the tea cup carefully on the small side table beside the chair and sighed. It had been years since she had thought of Lily, and, in fact, she had tried her best to banish all memories of the redhead. She'd been pregnant and widowed, left alone in a house much to big for her with a child she didn't know how to raise, and all because of Lily.

Still, she was surprised that Lily would have turned on Remus Lupin. But who knew what Lily was capable of. Maybe she no longer cared about _any_ of her supposed friends.

"Still, I hope we'll all learn the appropriate lesson from this," Bellatrix said. "Never trust Mudblood filth. They aren't fit to be part of this society. They are beneath us."

Narcissa laughed quietly. "We learned that seven years ago, Bella."

"_I've_ known that since birth," Bellatrix corrected. "And so has Rodolphus. And when he is done with Evans, he'll move on to the rest of them."

Narcissa leaned forward, interest flashing in her eyes. "He thinks he can use this to gain more support for your cause? It is true, winning the case against Evans will prove that Mudbloods are dangerous, but does he really believe that this will…"

"Aid in our war to protect the true wizarding society from those that would dirty us?" Bellatrix nodded. "It will, Cissy. Just wait and see. We'll have a new order soon enough, I promise you that."


	3. First Impressions

Chapter Three: First Impressions

James supposed he should be thankful that they were meeting in a Ministry conference room. It had taken some persuading on his part, and he'd had to pull quite a few strings, but it would pay off. The last thing he wanted was for his first meeting with Lily Evans to be in the interrogation rooms in Azkaban, with chains rustling on all the chairs and Dementors floating outside the door.

He settled himself into the seat on one side of the table and looked around the room. It was small, with only room for a table and a few chairs. The door had a heavy lock on it, and James could not help but shiver slightly at that. Did they plan on locking him in the room with an accused murderer?

Well, he could hardly blame them. They were, after wall, bringing her into the Ministry. Nobody wanted to take the chance that she would break free and kill them all. Particularly given how serious of a case this was.

He looked down at his quill and roll of parchment. He still wasn't entirely sure how he had allowed Marlene to talk him into this. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd never really been able to say no to her. Growing up as an only child, he had often longed for siblings to conspire with or against. Marlene had eventually filled that role, and though he often teased her mercilessly, he caved every time she pressed him to do something.

And, of course, there was the fact that she was right about this. If he could get Evans acquitted of the charges, who knew what other opportunities would open for him? And then there was the added bonus of beating Lestrange, the very thought of which made James smile.

His musings were interrupted by the door creaking open, and then two Aurors appeared, escorting the prisoner between them. Usually Dementors brought the prisoners to the Ministry, of course, but James had requested not to have them this time. He truly despised Dementors, and also wanted to ensure that his client had enough time away from the foul beasts that she would be coherent when he spoke to her.

It was an unusual requests and quite a few eyebrows had been raised over it, but the Potter family was powerful enough that his requests were not ignored.

James rose to his feet and studied Evans carefully. She met his gaze without flinching, her chin raised every so slightly, defiance evident in her body language. Her eyes, he noted, were a brilliant shade of green, and her fiery red hair was a mess of tangles that had clearly not been brushed in the past few days. Her clothes were torn and dirty, and her nails were chipped, but there was still something absolutely stunning about her.

Too bad she was most likely guilty of murder.

"Thank you," James said to the two Aurors. "If you would stand outside the door, please, I would like a word in private with my client."

"Client?" Evans demanded. "What are you talking about?"

One of the Aurors laughed softly and shook his head, as though the entire situation amused him. The other pushed Evans forward none to gently and said roughly, "Take a seat." Then they both withdrew, giving James an appraising look before shutting the door firmly behind them.

The lock snapped into place.

Evans turned and looked at the heavy oak door for a moment, her expression shrewd and calculating.

"I assure you, Miss Evans, you cannot break through that door," James said, casually withdrawing his wand from his robes to make a point. He was armed, and she was not. And there were two Aurors in the hallway. Surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt an escape?

She regarded him coldly. "I assure you, _sir_, that I was not planning on attempting it."

He frowned, then gestured to the seat opposite him. "My name is James Potter, Miss Evans, and I will be your counsel. Please, have a seat."

"I did not ask for counsel," Evans said quietly, still standing, still staring hard at James. "And I do not have the money to pay you."

"I am not interested in your money," James said airily. "Now, sit. We have a lot to discuss."

But Evans shook her head stubbornly, refusing to move from her spot by the door. "I did not ask for your counsel," she said again, her words hard and sharp. "I do not know why you have taken an interest in this case, but I assure you, I do not want…"

"Miss Evans," James interrupted, "do you understand that you will be standing trial for murder?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"Do you understand that Rodolphus Lestrange has taken this case and will most likely do everything in his power to convict you? That you will be sent to Azkaban for life? Or worse?"

There was a slight pause, then Evans said, "Yes."

"Then why exactly do you not want me as your counsel?" James asked.

She pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. He followed suit, staring hard at her, wishing he could read her mind. She had been defensive since the moment she walked into the room, and yet all he was trying to do was help.

She folded her hands on the top of the table and looked away for a moment. When she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate, and even though she still was not looking at him, he could tell that she was glaring.

"You have not explained why you wish to be my counsel. Given that we have both acknowledged I cannot pay you for your services, I find your interest in this… suspicious."

James leaned back in his seat. He was not about to admit to her that this was a political move, that he was doing his best to beat Lestrange. He was on edge around her, and not just because she had been accused of murder. Twice. There was something else about her, something he couldn't quite place, but it left him uneasy.

He lifted his quill and held it over the parchment, ready take notes should the conversation turn towards a more productive topic. For the moment, though, he said simply, "Why?"

She looked at him briefly, then dropped her eyes. "Why not? Most people don't waste time like this."

"It is not a waste of time," James answered. "Now, obviously, the most important thing is to determine what parts of Lestrange's case we can discredit. I am going to ask you a series of questions, mostly to gather the necessary background information for this. From there, we will discuss our options."

"Questions?" Evans said, her brow furrowed.

"Yes," James answered. "How long have you known Remus Lupin?"

He watched her closely as he asked the question, and felt a bit of satisfaction at the way her eyes filled with tears. It was convincing, and it might be enough to sway the Wizengamot into believing that she cared about Lupin too much to ever want to hurt him.

She blinked a few times, and quickly composed herself. That would not do, and James scribbled down a note about this. She would need to stay upset for the duration of the trial, particularly if they chose to put her on the witness stand. Composure was too often equated with lack of emotion, and he wanted people to believe that she was grieving this loss.

She drew a shaky breath and said, "We met when we were eleven, so it has been several years."

"Eleven?" James said curiously. "First year at Hogwarts?" He studied her again, trying to remember if he'd seen her at all. Hogwarts was a big school, of course, and he didn't know all the students there. But she had to be close to his age, so they couldn't have been more than a few years apart.

Evans frowned at him. "Yes," she said, a bit coldly. "We were both sorted into Gryffindor."

James hesitated, then admitted, "That was the house I was in."

Evans rolled her eyes. "I know," she said, a snap to her voice. "You were a few years ahead of us." She folded her arms over her chest. "But I guess Remus and I didn't fit into your social crowd, did we? I seem to remember you only ever paid attention to the Quidditch players."

James felt entirely flabbergasted, and had no idea how to respond. It wasn't as though she could actually expect that he would no every single person in his house, particularly those that were a few years below him? There were two hundred people in each House, and they lost and gained thirty students each year!

He set his quill down and gave Evans a long look. She stared back unblinkingly, a challenge in her eyes.

He sighed. "And you became friends with Lupin?"

"Yes," she answered. "Why does any of this matter?"

"I need to convince the Wizengamot that you liked Lupin, that you would not wish him harm," James explained. "The fact that you have been friends with Lupin for so long certainly works in our favor, but no doubt Lestrange will have some way of getting around that. Did you ever argue with Lupin? Particularly in the last few years? And in public? Anything that could be used against you?"

"What does it matter?" she shot back.

"Because you were found standing over Lupin's dead body, his blood on your clothes, on your hands," James snapped back in exasperation. "Lestrange already has a strong case against you, and the only way we are going to discredit _him_ is if we know what he is going to use against you ahead of time. That way we can come up with a different story for the Wizengamot."

"Why don't we just tell the Wizengamot the truth?" Evans suggested.

"And what is the truth, Miss Evans?" James asked wearily. She was making this harder by the second, and he really did not wish to draw out the interview for much longer. But so far, she had not given him enough to work with, and he needed more information.

"I didn't kill Remus!"

James ran a hand through his hair and looked away. He knew Evans was still staring at him, her green eyes flashing, her face flushed. She had risen to her feet and was leaning over the table, and some part of James was ridiculously glad that he had a wand.

Not that he would ever admit that he was afraid of a girl.

He heard her sit down again, and when he looked back at her, she was shaking her head with something akin to disgust in her expression.

"This is why I don't want you as my counsel," she spat.

"What do you mean?" he asked warily.

"You think I am guilty," she said. "You think I killed Remus. I loved him, and he's _dead_ now. But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You don't care about what really happened to Remus. You're convinced that I am guilty, and all that matters to you is that you get a chance to prove what a good lawyer you are by getting me acquitted. But he's still dead, Mr. Potter, and I want someone who cares about _that_."

James fought the urge to walk out of the room. Her tone was literally dripping with loathing, and the look in her eyes was one of complete dislike.

He expelled a short breath and said, "What you want, Miss Evans, is entirely irrelevant at this point. Because I am what you _have_. Now, you can walk out of the this room and condemn yourself to a lifetime in Azkaban, or you can let me do my job and hopefully get you freed."

"I could find someone else…" she started, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Someone who would do this for free? Someone who would willingly go up against Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the most influential men in our society? How exactly do you plan on finding this person?"

She said nothing, perhaps recognizing the truth in his words. He gave her a grim smile of satisfaction and picked up his quill again. "Now, shall we continue?"

* * *

"So, what's this McKinnon says about you being daft enough to go against Lestrange on a murder trial?"

James jumped at the sound of a voice whispering in his ear and spun around to find himself staring into the laughing eyes of his best friend. "Merlin, Sirius, did you _have_ to do that?"

"Do what? Oh, you mean sneak up on you? How could I pass up the opportunity to watch you jump out of your skin?" Sirius Black answered with a broad grin.

James rolled his eyes. He'd been reading the _Daily Prophet_ and lounging on the sofa in his flat, but Sirius' surprise had caused him to crumple the newspaper. He tossed it onto the coffee table, the wrinkled photograph of Lily Evans being escorted to Azkaban staring up at them.

"Yeah, well, knock it off, mate," he said.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Someone's in a foul mood."

"You would be too if you'd just spent the last few hours with that… that…" He threw his hands up in the air and leaned back against the sofa. "I can't even think of the right words for her. She's insufferable."

"So it's true? You really are going to represent her?" Sirius demanded, looking aghast. "James, have you lost your mind?"

"Uh… no?" James answered tentatively. Sirius continued to gape at him, and James frowned thoughtfully and asked, "Didn't Lena tell you her plan?"

"The one where you win the trial and become the youngest Head of a Ministry Department in I don't know how long?" Sirius retorted. "Yeah, and what about if you _don't_ win?"

"Your faith in me is touching," James drawled.

"I'm serious!"

At that, James could not stop the smile that split his face in two, and he said mockingly, throwing back Sirius' often-used line, "I _know_ you're Sirius, mate, you don't need to tell me that."

Sirius chuckled slightly, then sat down next to James and picked up the newspaper. Smoothing out the wrinkled picture, he studied it for a long minute, then said, "Well, she is a looker, James, even if she's guilty of murder."

James rubbed his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered, not really agreeing, but too exhausted to argue. The day had been draining, and though he was always happy to see Sirius, he couldn't deny the anxiety that built in his chest at the question his best mate had asked.

What would happen if he lost?

He'd taken risks before, but they were always calculated risks, ones where the chance of gain far outweighed the possibility of loss. This felt more like jumping off the edge of a cliff and hoping that he wouldn't break too many bones when he landed.

He had gone into the meeting knowing that he could always withdraw his aid if he decided it was too risky. But something about Evans had gotten under his skin, and even if he couldn't stand her, he couldn't stop thinking about her, either.

Sirius was regarding him with a knowing smirk. "So it's like that, huh?"

"Like what?" James demanded.

But Sirius just patted him on the shoulder. "Don't forget, mate, she probably killed this Lupin fellow in cold blood. It doesn't matter how pretty she is, she's still dangerous. Probably even more dangerous because…"

"Sirius, what _are_ you talking about?" James interrupted.

Sirius laughed. "Come on, mate. Isn't it obvious? You can't get her off your mind, can you?" James sheepishly shook his head, and Sirius said, "It's probably just her looks. You've got to get past that. It's always the pretty ones that ensnare you."

It took James a minute to figure out what Sirius was saying, and then he opened his mouth in horror. "What? Sirius, I don't… I don't _fancy_ her. I just…"

"Can't stop thinking about her?" Sirius offered helpfully.

James threw him a brief glare, but couldn't deny the truth in those words. Still, he wasn't about to let Sirius win this argument. Evans might be beautiful and clearly intelligent, and yes, she was brave enough not to be intimidated even with Aurors watching her every move, but she was stubborn and annoying and frustrating and most likely guilty of murder.

He _didn't_ fancy Lily Evans.

There was just something about her that he couldn't explain, something that had gotten under his skin.

* * *

When James stepped out of the emerald flames into his office, he was surprised to find Marlene hovering anxiously by the fireplace, waiting for him. He dusted himself off casually and gave her a questioning look, and she offered a faint smile.

"We have company," she said, nodding her head towards the door, her eyes dark with worry and a little bit of fear.

James turned and only just managed to keep his composure. Leaning against the wall with a arrogant smirk on his features, arms crossed over his chest, was Rodolphus Lestrange. No wonder Marlene had been on edge, Lestrange could make anyone jumpy.

"Good morning," James said, inclining his head in greeting. His words had a thin verneer of politeness on them, but he had no doubt that Lestrange could hear the bitter dislike underneath.

"Don't get in over your head, Potter. It's incredibly foolish, even for a Gryffindor," Lestrange snapped, apparently deciding to forgo any attempt at civility.

James forced himself to remain calm as he said, "I am not in over my head, Lestrange, but I appreciate your… concern… for my wellbeing." He unfastened his cloak and handed it to Marlene, who took it quickly and hung it up on the hook by the far wall.

Lestrange said venomously, "Don't mock me, Potter. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into. If you abandon this idiotic attempt at proving your worth, I will be willing to overlook this mistake."

"It isn't idiotic," James said pointedly. "She has the right to counsel, Lestrange, as I am sure you know. The Wizengamot determined that in 1923."

"The right to counsel can be waived in times of war or in cases of treason," Lestrange spat.

"We are not at war," James argued, "and Miss Evans has not been accused of treason. The Wizengamot will uphold the earlier ruling, even if you do try to threaten them into changing their minds."

"Are you accusing me of tampering with the Wizengamot?" Lestrange asked in a dangerously quiet voice. He took a few steps towards James, his jaw clenched tightly. "Don't be a fool, boy. You may have money and some power, but you still have a lot to learn about how this game is played."

"Some power?" James repeated. "I think I have considerably _more_ than some." He was a Potter after all, and his family – had they cared at all about the so-called purity of blood – would have ranked above even the Malfoys and Blacks in terms of their importance. As blood traitors, however, they had lost some prestige.

But not much.

Lestrange seemed to decide that they were getting off topic, and he said, "Let it go, Potter. We both know she's guilty."

"She still has a right to counsel," James argued, repeating his earlier comment. "Guilty or not, that does not change."

"And is it worth it?" Lestrange sneered. "When I win this case – and believe me, Potter, I will – will it still be worth it to you? When I've discredited you, proven you to be nothing more than an amateur and a fool, will it be worth it then?"

"Is that a threat?" James demanded hotly.

Lestrange shrugged carelessly and answered with smug confidence, "It is a friendly warning, Potter. I would hate to see a pureblood like yourself be so harmed by his naïve decisions."

"You don't frighten me," James answered stoically.

Lestrange shook his head. "Then you are even more daft than I believed." He paused, regarding James with a shrewd look, then said, "She's Mudblood filth, Potter, and she's committed murder. Drop this case before it becomes too much for you."

"No," James said flatly.

Lestrange came closer, pausing only a step away from James. He lowered his voice, but it was still filled with the same fury and disgust, and there was something almost inhuman in his eyes. "I will crush her, Potter. And if you stand in my way, I will destroy you, too."

"Why do you care so much? I thought she was just Mudblood filth," James asked pointedly.

Lestrange slammed his fist into the wall directly to the right of James' head, and the younger wizard could not help but flinch. Still, he maintained his composure and stared back coolly, refusing to let his weaknesses show through.

"She made a fool of me once, Potter. She won't do it again," Lestrange snarled. And then he turned and swept from the office, slamming the door shut behind him.

James let out the breath he had been holding.

After a moment of silence in which Marlene needlessly arranged and rearranged several rolls of parchment on the desk, James felt the need to say something to ease the tension. He struggled valiantly for a joke, but could come up with nothing even remotely funny in the wake of the threats that he had just heard.

Finally, he settled for saying with a half-smile, "It seems like Lestrange doesn't want me to do this."

Marlene sent him a look that said clearly how much she did not find this funny. James sighed and shook his head.

"Apparently I underestimated how much he loathed Lily Evans," Marlene said quietly. "Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you should quit."

"The Potters aren't quitters," James said firmly.

Marlene nodded but countered, "Are they suicidal?"

James didn't answer, but instead lowered himself wearily into the chair at his desk. He knew that neither of them had expected Lestrange to react _this_ angrily to the situation, although they had expected something. But the look in Lestrange's eyes at the end, that indescribably merciless sneer…

It sent shivers down James' spine just thinking about it.

"I thought that the worst that would happen if you didn't win the case was that Lestrange would mock you for it. But you're young, and it would hardly be unexpected for you to lose. You could have always explained it away as trying to gain experience or something like that…" Marlene trailed off, a far away look in her eyes. "But he was mad, James. He was angrier than I thought he would be. It just… it's… odd."

"How so?" James asked, folding his hands behind his head and scooting back so he could prop his feet up on the desk.

Marlene wrinkled her nose in distaste, she always hated it when he did something as uncivilized as displaying his muddy boots so prominently. But he just gave her a cheeky smile, and she rolled her eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

Then she said, "He had to have known that she'd have counsel. I mean… she has a right to it, and even if she can't afford it, someone would step forward. As you said, we're not at war and she isn't accused of treason."

James considered this. It was true, Lestrange could not expect that he would have no opposition. Even if the entire world believed Lily Evans to be guilty, someone would represent her. It was the way things were done in this country during a time of peace, and there was no reason to assume otherwise.

So was he really that upset that Evans had counsel… or was he upset because that counsel was James?

"I think I need to learn a little bit more about Rodolphus Lestrange's previous interactions with Lily Evans," James mused. "I think I need to know a bit more about the death of Lucius Malfoy."


	4. Presumed Guilty

Chapter Four: Presumed Guilty

By that afternoon, Marlene had deposited so many newspapers on James' desk that he had lost all ability to see the wood surface. They were piled high and organized by topic – the trial, the verdict, the aftermath – and carefully stacked in chronological order of publish date. Next to the newspapers were several copies of court transcripts taken during the actual trial.

James groaned. He wasn't going to be leaving the office any time soon.

It appeared he wasn't the only one about to be disappointed by this.

Sirius came marching into the office, banging the door off the wall and greeting Marlene with a cry of, "McKinnon!" and deftly caught her by the waist and swung her in the air. She proceeded to hit him several times over the head with a roll of parchment, and he set her down and turned to James with a lopsided grin.

"Women. Bloody mental, the lot of them," he said.

James raised his eyebrows. "Emily turn you down again?" Sirius had spent much of the past two weeks pursuing Emily Edgecombe, but his reputation as a commitment-phobic prankster had worked against him, and she kept coming up with excuses to avoid his attentions.

"Yeah. Like I said, mental. Come on, let's grab a drink to drown my sorrows," Sirius said, grabbing James by the arm and attempting to pull him from his seat.

"I can't," James said regretfully. "I have to work." And he looked down at the stacks of newspaper rather regretfully, because a glass of Firewhiskey did sound very good at the moment.

"What is all this?" Sirius demanded, picking up one of the articles and scanning it. "Research?" It apparently did not interest him at all, and dropped it back onto the desk, letting it float aimlessly unto the wrong stack.

Marlene jumped on it, tearing it away from where it had landed and giving Sirius a glare as she placed it back in the appropriate space. "Sirius Black, if you even think of messing this up, I _will_ hex you," she threatened.

He held up his hands in a sign of mock-surrender, then spun around to face James again. "Come on, James. You've got tomorrow to look through old newspapers and court documents. Let's go get drunk."

"Unlike you, James and I actually have work to do," Marlene said with a sniff. She pulled up a chair and settled herself next to James. "Now," she said to her boss, completely ignoring Sirius, "this should be enough to start with, but I will make a list of questions that come up as you are reading them and then we can look for that information, too."

"I have work, too," Sirius protested. "Very important work. I have to get James to come out to a pub with me."

"Not tonight," James said apologetically. "Believe me, I would rather be having fun with you then stuck here under all these articles, but I need to read this. I've already been threatened once my Lestrange, I'd like to have a better sense of what this is all about the next time he comes after me."

"He threatened you?" Sirius demanded, all trace of amusement now gone from his expression. He looked grim, and he grabbed a chair and swung it around, sitting backwards on it with his legs out to either side. "What did he say?"

James waved away his concern. "It's no big deal. He's just threatening to ruin my life."

"No big deal?" Sirius echoed, dumbfounded.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Sirius and Marlene exchange a brief look, both clearly annoyed by his casual dismissal of Lestrange's words. And it wasn't that he was not at all afraid of the other wizard or that he did not take the threat seriously. But there was no reason to dwell on it now, not when it couldn't be changed.

If anything, it just intrigued James more.

His self-preservation instincts were never very good.

Finally, Sirius snatched back the original newspaper article he had picked up and asked, "Are they all about the Malfoy trial?"

"Yeah," Marlene answered. "It was a big deal. Lucius Malfoy was a big deal." Her voice was a bit subdued, no longer the playful insults or complete outrage that she often used with Sirius. She gazed at him for a moment, pity in her eyes.

"What?" Sirius snapped, and even James had to admit he was a little intrigued by her out-of-character expression.

"Nothing," she said quickly, and dropped her gaze.

Sirius threw a confused look at James, but all James could do was shrug in return. Marlene made no effort to explain anything, and simply picked up her own article and scanned it quickly.

"Alright, well… need help?" Sirius offered.

James' eyes widened. "You're offering to help? Like… do _actual_ work?"

Sirius gave a hurt expression, but the mirth sparkled in his eyes. "Why not? Anything to annoy Lestrange."

* * *

_TRAGIC DEMISE OF WELL-RESPECTED WIZARD_

_November 11, 1980, Wiltshire, England. The world was shocked and saddened to learn of the murder of Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy's body was found in London in the early hours of the morning. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive him. It has been confirmed that he was killed by the Killing Curse, although there are no clues yet as to the culprit. Time of death is believed to have been at approximately midnight._

_Lucius was, of course, the only son of the late Abraxas Malfoy . He is survived by his wife Narcissa Malfoy née Black and their one-year-old son, Draco.

* * *

_

_MINISTRY MAKES AN ARREST IN CONJUNCTION WITH MALFOY MURDER_

_November 12, 1980, London, England. At approximately 8:15 this morning, Lily Evans, was arrested for the murder of Lucius Malfoy. Evans, 20, is a Muggleborn, and was Head Girl during her final year at Hogwarts. She is currently a Trainee Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital._

_Evans claims to have been at the home of Frank Longbottom at the time Malfoy was killed. However, several eyewitnesses saw her at the Cavorting Chimaera pub consuming copious amounts of Knotgrass mead. Malfoy was also seen at this pub, although, according to unnamed sources, he left long before she did._

_Evans has also been known to argue with Malfoy on several occasions. Two days before Malfoy's untimely death, Evans was witnessed yelling at him in the halls of St. Mungo's. She is reported as having threatened to "make him regret it."_

_Rodolphus Lestrange, brother-in-law to the deceased, has been appointed the counsel for the prosecution in the trial. Says Lestrange, "Lucius was a powerful wizard and a true benefit to this society, and his death must be avenged. We will not allow Evans to escape justice."_

_Miss Evans has offered a plea of not guilty. The trial is set to begin on November 15__th__, as Lestrange wishes a speedy resolution to this matter. Scheduled to testify against Evans are Augustus Rookwood, an Unspeakable in the Department of Ministry; Selene Spelling, barmaid at the Cavorting Chimaera; and Narcissa Malfoy, wife of the deceased. Scheduled to appear as witnesses for the defense are Frank Longbottom and Remus Lupin.

* * *

_

_FIRST DAY OF TRIAL_

_November 15__th__, 1980, London, England. The first day of the trial of Lily Evans for the murder of Lucius Malfoy ended on a high note for the prosecution. The first witness, Selene Spelling, testified that Lily Evans had been seen by herself at the Cavorting Chimaera shortly before ten o'clock at night. She was seen arguing with Malfoy, who then left in a huff around ten-thirty at night. Miss Evans stayed at the pub until eleven o'clock, and then she was seen leaving as well._

_Miss Spelling's testimony was followed by testimony from Augustus Rookwood, a prominent Unspeakable at the Ministry. Mr. Rookwood recounted that, on October 29__th__, Miss Evans, a Trainee Healer, approached himself, and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy in St. Mungo's. Miss Evans spoke briefly to Mrs. Malfoy, but the conversation was interrupted by Mr. Malfoy, who believed that Miss Evans was upsetting his wife. Mr. Rookwood then led Mrs. Malfoy away to allow her time to compose herself, and it was at this point that Miss Evans was seen slapping Mr. Malfoy and yelling, "I will make you regret it!" _

_Counsel for the Defense, Charles Blueblade, was unable to poke any holes in the testimony of either witness.

* * *

_

_WIFE'S TESTIMONY RAISES QUESTIONS ABOUT EVANS' GUILT_

_November 16__th__, 1980, London, England. Today was a definite win for the defense as Mr. Blueblade cross-examined Narcissa Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy stated in her testimony that Miss Evans had, on more than one occasion, threatened Mr. Malfoy. Indeed, she was able to recount in vivid detail several of these arguments. However, on cross-examination, Mr. Blueblade succeeded in confirming that Mr. Malfoy had often instigated such arguments by seeking out Miss Evans whenever their paths crossed._

_Mr. Blueblade then went on to ask Mrs. Malfoy if Miss Evans had ever been threatened by anyone else. Mrs. Malfoy dodged the question several times, but finally admitted that, on the day before the Mr. Malfoy's murder, Mr. Rodolphus and Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange had both informed Miss Evans of their intention to bring her "suffering and misery." This conversation was also overheard by Mr. Remus Lupin, who will testify as a witness for the defense._

_Given these new developments, some members of the Wizengamot are no doubt asking themselves if this trial isn't simply an attempt on the part of the prosecution to make good on their previous warning to Miss Evans.

* * *

_

_EVANS ACQUITED! LESTRANGE PROMISES JUSTICE WILL TRIUMPH_

_November 19__th__, 1980, Godric's Hollow, England. After just four days of trial, the Wizengamot ruled in favor of Lily Evans, acquitting her of all charges regarding the murder of Lucius Malfoy. Upon hearing this ruling, Charles Blueblade announced that justice had been done and the innocent had been protected from the malicious intent of others, possibly referring to the alleged accusation that Miss Evans had been framed by Rodolphus Lestrange. However, Mr. Lestrange countered this, stating that he was disappointed by the ruling, and was certain that justice would prevail in the end. Says Mr. Lestrange, "While I highly respect the Wizengamot, I cannot deny that I am saddened by this decision. Those who voted to acquit Miss Evans will have to come to terms with this on their own. I, for one, will be doing my best to ensure the safety of this society from all threats… even if others are not."_

_Several members of the Wizengamot reacted strongly against Mr. Lestrange's statement. However, this reporter was both concerned and disturbed to find rumors of bribery and blackmail among the esteemed members. It appears that Miss Evans may have wanted to ensure that she would be found innocent on all charges, and used her influence to do so. Tampering with the Wizengamot is, of course, a serious crime, and no doubt the Ministry will want to investigate these accusations._

_Remus Lupin, however, spoke out briefly in defense of Miss Evans, "Lily is the victim in this mess. These rumors are baseless and vindictive, and were obviously started by Lestrange and his supporters in retaliation for losing the trial."_

_Speaking from her Wiltshire home, Mrs. Malfoy has issued the following statement in response, "The Wizengamot made an error in judgment today, but I do not blame them for being unable to stand up to threats and blackmail. Lily Evans is a murderer, and they must have feared for their safety. Mr. Lestrange is right, justice will prevail in the end. And until it does, it is up to the rest of us – those brave enough to fight back – to stand up for this society and for those who are unable to protect themselves."

* * *

_

It was well after midnight by the time the three of them had finished reading all of the articles, and James was exhausted. But he felt giddy, too, because he was finally starting to understand some of what had happened before, why Lestrange hated Lily Evans so much.

"So… let's go over what we've learned," Marlene said, tapping her quill against a role of parchment thoughtfully. "First of all, Lily Evans and Lucius Malfoy did not get along, and were, in fact, seen arguing on more than one occasion the week before his death."

"They are both at the Cavorting Chimaera the night that Malfoy dies," James added, frowning. "They argue, and then Malfoy leaves. But Evans stays at the pub." He shot Marlene and Sirius a pointed look. "If she was planning on killing him, she would have left as soon as he did, right? Track him down?"

But Sirius shook his head. "Too obvious. She's smart, right?" He waited for James' reluctant nod of confirmation, then added, "She'd have known what it looked like if she followed him out. Maybe that's why she left later?"

"She was found to be not guilty," James argued heatedly. "Maybe she left later because she didn't care about Malfoy. Maybe she left later because she _didn't_ kill him."

"Do you really think that?" Sirius countered softly, one eyebrow raised.

"Gentlemen, we are getting ahead of ourselves," Marlene interjected, tapping her quill against the parchment. "We're not here to discuss Miss Evans' innocence or guilt, merely to figure out exactly _why_ Lestrange hates her so much."

James sighed, but nodded in agreement. "Fine. So, let me see…" he looked down again at the parchment, "A few days before this, Evans threatened Malfoy in front of people. She obviously hated him, and he didn't really seem to like her, either."

But something about this didn't make any sense. Lily Evans was a Muggleborn, and that was reason enough for someone like Malfoy to hate her. On the other hand, she was a few years younger than him and had been Sorted into a different House at Hogwarts. Yet they had argued every time they met, both of them even going out of there way to seek out the other instead of just ignoring each other when they happened to be in the same public space. The hatred that existed between the two didn't seem like the normal Gryffindor-Slytherin dislike. It seemed… personal.

How did they know each other?

"What I find interesting is Narcissa's testimony that Rodolphus and Bellatrix had threatened to ruin Evans' life," Sirius said. "That seemed to slip out, didn't it? The article makes it seem like she didn't actually mean to say any of it, but Mr. Blueblade was certainly able to use it to his advantage."

Marlene chewed her lip and looked uncomfortable, but before James had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she said, "True. And then there was also the issue of the wand."

"The wand?" James questioned. He hadn't read that part, although now that he thought about it, he found it strange that there had been no discussion of Evans' wand. As the alleged murder weapon, surely it would have been submitted as evidence?

"Evans claimed she accidentally broke her wand the day before. No one say her with her wand at the pub, and, in fact, no one say her with her wand at all during the previous few days," Marlene explained, digging out a newspaper article with the headlines MISSING WAND ADDS MYSTERY TO MALFOY'S MURDER. "She must have had it on November 10th, when she was at St. Mungo's, because no Trainee Healer would come to work without a wand. But after that… it certainly is possible that she broke it."

"Wands aren't _that_ easy to break, and what kind of witch or wizard is so careless with a wand anyway?" Sirius grumbled. "If they'd had the wand, they would have been able to tell that she killed him, so she got rid of it. That seems the most logical."

"Without the wand, they can't prove that, though," Marlene argued. "And, really, you're getting off track again. We're not discussing if she was actually guilty…"

"You know," James interrupted with a puzzled expression, "there was an article about Remus Lupin testifying, right? I remember reading that." He sorted through the articles for a moment, then pulled out two clippings with headlines EVANS' FRIEND CONVINCED OF HER INNOCENCE and LUPIN TESTIFIES FOR EVANS IN MURDER TRIAL. He scanned them quickly, then commented with a feeling of bitter irony, "Lupin testified that Evans would never do anything like this, that even though she didn't like Malfoy, she would not commit murder. She was too good of a person." He looked up at Marlene, shaking his head. "And now she might have killed him, too."

"Look," Marlene said after a pause while they each thought about James' words, "what we have been able to determine from this is that Lestrange could not make the case against Evans because of Mrs. Malfoy's testimony, the missing wand, and Evans' alibi that she was with Frank Longbottom. Right?"

James nodded. Out of all of that, it was the alibi with Longbottom that seemed the most relevant to James. He knew that Evans and Longbottom had been friends – at least that is what all the articles had said – but Longbottom was also training to be an Auror and new the penalties for perjury. So surely he wouldn't lie about something like that.

"What's your point?" Sirius asked. "Besides the fact that Narcissa should have kept her mouth shut if she really wanted Evans in Azkaban?"

Marlene set the quill down on the desk and stared at Sirius for a long moment. Then she asked in a diffident voice, "This really doesn't bother you?"

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"This is your family," Marlene explained, a hesitancy in her tone. "Mrs. Malfoy is your cousin. Her husband was murdered. This doesn't… isn't it hard for you to be looking at all of this?"

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Is that what you've been worried about all night, McKinnon? Don't get your knickers in a twist over me, doll. They're not my family, I don't care about them." Marlene didn't look convinced, and he said in a more serious and emphatic voice, "I've been disowned, you know that. They haven't been my family since Hogwarts. I don't care about them."

"Mrs. Malfoy lost her husband," Marlene protested weakly. "He was _murdered_."

"I don't care," Sirius answered, but James could see the telltale flicker of guilt in his best friend's eyes. Sirius did care, at least a little, but was trying to convince himself that he didn't. Marlene's words had stirred up feelings that had been long buried, and Sirius didn't want to face them.

James reached over and rested his fingers lightly on Marlene's arm, then shook his head slightly. She seemed to catch the hint, and she did not press the issue. But her gaze lingered on Sirius for a moment longer before she returned to her work.

James rubbed his eyes wearily. All the various pieces of the last trial were blending together in his mind, he could barely focus on any of them. He let his gaze wander over the paper on the desk, then pulled one of the articles closer so that he could reread it.

_EVANS SACKED FROM ST. MUNGO'S TRAINEE PROGRAM_

_November 23__th__, 1981, London, England. In a surprise announcement by Senior Healer Scilla Sedgwick of St. Mungo's Hospital, Lily Evans, recently acquitted for the murder of Lucius Malfoy, was asked to leave the Trainee Healer program. Sources say that Healer Sedgwick was pressured by Narcissa Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy's widow, to remove Miss Evans from the program. Healer Sedgwick has refused to comment on these rumors._

_The official statement released from St. Mungo's this morning sites Miss Evans' "irresponsibility and deficient attitude" as the reason for her removal. Says another Healer Trainee, Celine Greengrass, "Lily Evans didn't care about helping people. She didn't get along with any of us, she was disrespectful to our superiors, and all of the patients hated her. She had a negative attitude, and it's been a lot easier without her here."_

_Although Miss Evans has lodged an official complaint, citing her dismissal as unwarranted and malicious, sources say it is unlikely she will be…_

"What are you looking at?" Sirius asked, interrupting James' reading.

James stretched his arms above his head, feeling his tense muscles creak. "An article about Evans being sacked from St. Mungo's," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marlene nodded thoughtfully. "It wasn't the only thing that happened after the trial." She unrolled a parchment that was covered in writing and showed it to the two wizards. "It's her employment records, or at least what I could find of them. She never held a job for more than six months, the Lestranges saw to that. She's been hounded by the Ministry, too. Her renewal application for her Apparition license went _missing_, all her paperwork for renting space in Diagon Alley for a store she wanted to open was _accidentally destroyed_…" She trailed off with a sigh, then concluded, "Basically, any time paperwork was required, something happened to interfere with her plans."

"So…" James frowned, looking at the notes Marlene had written, "she is found innocent of all charges, but she's punished for it anyway?"

"Yeah," Marlene said with a heavy sigh. "That seems to be the truth of it."

James leaned back in his seat and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Evans' inherent distrust made a lot more sense now, as did her disbelief that he could actually do her any good. She'd been through this once before, and learned the hard way that it didn't matter what the Wizengamot decided.

James clenched his hand into fists. "I'm going to win," he said emphatically, furiously. "I don't care what tricks Lestrange has up his sleeve, I am going to win this."

"Well, good luck, mate, but it's going to take more than just your charm and good looks," Sirius said.

James crumpled up a newspaper article and tossed it at his friend. "Stuff it."

"I still don't understand why Lestrange cares about her so much," Marlene muttered as she rose to her feet, stepping around her chair. "He's lost cases before." She proceeded to pull her cloak of the wall and wrap it around her shoulders, indicating her clear intent to leave the rest of the conversation for another time.

"Yeah, but none of them involved the murder of his brother-in-law," James argued. "Maybe it's personal for him."

Marlene tilted her chin up, a challenge in her eyes. "You really think so?" she asked. "You really think he'd waste time like this over Malfoy's death? They might be family, but still… He didn't let go of that grudge for seven years. That's a long time to stay upset."

"Yeah, but people in my family hold grudges like you wouldn't believe," Sirius replied grimly. "It's practically what they live on. That and the Dark Arts."

Marlene shrugged. "Maybe. But I still think we're missing something. Maybe we should sleep on it? We'll have new ideas in the morning."

James couldn't help but agree with her assessment. There were, in fact, several things that he felt were missing. And at the moment, the question that was bugging him the most, revolved around the exact nature of Lily Evans and Lucius Malfoy's relationship. How did they know each other, and why was their hatred so personal?

The beginning of an idea started to form in his mind, and he gave a faint grin as he looked over at Sirius. "Hey… you, uh, want to help out a bit more, Sirius…?" he asked tentatively.

Sirius shrugged, oblivious to the trepidation in James' eyes. "Sure. What do you need?"

"I'd like another take on this whole trial," James answered, tapping the stack of articles with his forefinger. "Maybe someone can shed some light on a few questions I have."

"So talk to Evans," Sirius answered logically. "She was there, she should be able to answer your questions."

"Yeah, but I don't think she will," James replied, remembering the glare that had been almost always present in her gaze during their conversation. It was clear that his client had no desire to share any more information than what was absolutely necessary, and no doubt she would refuse to answer his questions about Malfoy.

And besides, it wasn't her opinion he wanted.

"Well, Malfoy is dead, so you can't really talk to him," Sirius said, pushing his chair back and putting his feet up on his desk.

"Yes," James confirmed quietly, "but his wife isn't."

It took a moment, and then James saw the realization in Sirius' expression and watched as his friend jumped to his feet in denial and disgust.

"No, absolutely not!"

"Sirius…"

"I am not talking to Narcissa. I haven't spoken to her in forever, and I am not going to go marching into her house, wanting to talk. Besides, it is doubtful she'd even let me in through the door. I turned my back on my family, remember?"

"Yeah, and I am counsel for the woman she is convinced murdered her husband," James shot back sardonically. "You have more of a chance of getting in that door than I do."

Sirius glowered for a moment, then said, "You're a Potter. She might let you in."

"I'm a blood traitor. She won't, we both know that," James countered. "But you're a Black." Sirius continued to shake his head vehemently and James groaned and said, "Please? Come on, it's worth a shot, isn't it?"

Sirius grumbled under his breath for a moment, but then gave a slow, reluctant nod.


	5. The Price We Pay

Chapter Five: The Price We Pay (For Being Different)

Lily Evans was sitting quietly in the seat on one side of the table when he entered the room. James paused long enough to watch the door close and hear the firm click of the lock falling into place, then he crossed quickly to the table and pulled out his own seat. He studied her for a moment, eyes taking in her tired appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale and nearly gray.

He opened his mouth to ask her if she'd been sleeping well, then realized how ridiculous of a question it was, and snapped his jaw shut. Still, he wanted her to look better than this when they went before the Wizengamot. He wanted her to look like…

…well, a bit less like someone from the wrong part of town. Appearances went a long way towards convincing the Wizengamot of innocence or guilt, and she needed to appear to be grieving, but preferably in a pretty sort of way.

He decided to say as much.

"I will get you a different set of robes for the trial," he started briskly, wasting no time with pleasantries. "If you know your measurements, leave them with me at the end of the day and I will have my assistant get something… appropriate… for you."

"Does it really matter what I'm wearing?" Evans shot back. "I could be dressed in pure silk and fine jewels or in ashes and sackcloth and it wouldn't make a difference."

James gave her a level stare. "It matters. It matters a lot, and I want you to be presentable so that when the Wizengamot sees you, you look more like their daughters and wives than…"

"Than what?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "A poverty-stricken Muggleborn who just spent too much time in Azkaban? I don't think we can get away from _that_ one, Mr. Potter."

James bit his tongue and took a slow breath. Thirty seconds in, and he was already feeling wrong-footed by the conversation.

"Do you want to lose your soul?" he asked sharply.

A flush suffused her face, her skin tinted pink with either embarrassment or anger. But it was her eyes that drew his attention, the way they widened just a little bit at his words, the fear in them obvious. It was gone almost immediately, but for a moment he had seen the terror that lingered just below the surface.

So she had at least realized just how bad the situation was for her.

"Our last meeting was productive, but I want to focus on Lestrange today," James said, pulling out a roll of parchment and his quill. "I went over some articles and notes from the trial for the murder of Lucius Malfoy."

"And let me guess," Evans said bitterly, "you want an alibi for that night, too?"

"I already have your alibi," James answered, noting with vague interest the way her fingers stiffened, clenching tightly around the end of the table as the topic of conversation turned to Rodolphus Lestrange. "Anyway, you were deemed not guilty of that particular charge."

"Then why bring it up?" Evans asked.

"You beat Lestrange at his own game. I want to make the argument that he's out for revenge."

"Another plan to discredit him?" Evans asked, tilting her head up and studying him for a long moment. "You're probably right about that one, he is out for revenge. But it won't help us determine who really killed Remus. Unless, of course, you think Lestrange did."

"I am not interested in figuring out who killed Mr. Lupin," James said bluntly. "I'm interested in convincing the Wizengamot that you did not." Without waiting for her reply – because he really did not want to get into that particular argument again – he asked, "Tell me about Lucius Malfoy."

She started, mouth falling open. It surprised him, how expressive her face had suddenly become. There was anger, and grief, and resentment, but there was something else he couldn't identify. Something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

She pushed the chair back and stood up, moved away from him. There was no window in the room, so instead she stared blankly at the wall, red hair obscuring her face from view.

"You read the trial reports, you read the articles. You know everything there is to know," she said softly.

"How did you know him?" James pressed.

She shrugged, and when she finally faced him again, her eyes were blank, her face calm and collected. "He didn't like me, something he went out of his way to make sure I knew. That's how I knew him."

"But why didn't he like you?"

Lips curved into a cynical smile. "I'm a filthy Mudblood," she answered, her words filled with scorn. "What other reason did he need?"

James set his quill on the table. "Miss Evans, I read quite a bit about your argument with him. The number of times the two of you were seen yelling at each other… it makes it seem more personal than just a simple matter of him disapproving of your bloodlines."

"Disapproving?" Evans repeated. "Is that the word you want to use to describe it? And here I was thinking something more along the lines of complete detestation for people he viewed as below him. He saw me as trash, Mr. Potter. As someone not fit to breathe the same air he did. Disapproval is hardly a strong enough word."

James gestured for her to continue.

She started pacing, her steps agitated. Running a hand through her wild red tresses, she said, "There was nothing personal. He hated me, hated people like me. We were beneath him. I doubt he even realized most of the time that he knew me, that he had argued with me before. To him, I was just another Mudblood to yell at, to mock, to taunt… to bully. He never bothered to keep all of us separate in his mind. Mudbloods and blood traitors…"

She trailed off and sighed, blinking rapidly. James wondered if she were about to cry.

"So it wasn't personal?" James asked in disbelief. "You didn't know Malfoy that well? You did not interact with him besides these… conflicts?"

Evans shook her head. "It wasn't personal at all. And most of what Lestrange said in his prosecution, most of what his witnesses testified… most of that was lies."

James pulled out another roll of parchment and opened it, scanning the notes he had made the night before. "The day after Lucius Malfoy was killed, you had scratches on your face, as though you had been in a fight. Your watch had been smashed at seven minutes after midnight, again, as though you had been in a fight."

"I was… I drank too much that night," Evans answered, looking away, eyes falling towards the floor to her right. She studied the ground for a long moment, then said, "I am clumsy, and it is even worse when I've had too much to drink. The scratches were from losing my balance and falling into a tree, and that's when my watch broke as well."

"That is what you told the Wizengamot last time," James agreed.

"It's the truth," she snapped, eyes flashing as she glared at him. "What's the point in this, anyway? I'm not being accused of Malfoy's death again. Can't we just focus on Remus?"

James sighed inwardly. As he had predicted, Evans was not willing to help him with this line of inquiry, and he doubted she would shed any more light on his questions. He was still convinced that there was something more personal in the hatred that existed between her and Malfoy, and hopefully Sirius would have better luck prying the truth from his cousin.

He point his wand at the Evans' unoccupied chair, and it slid out a short ways, legs scratching against the ground. Evans glanced at it, then complied with his silent request for her to sit down. She scooted closer to the table and continued to watch him warily, waiting for his next question.

"Where was Mr. Lupin for the past three years?"

"I don't know," she answered immediately. "But I already told you that. I've already told _everyone_ that."

"And you are still holding to your story that you were at his place because you received an owl from him telling you that he had returned. When you got there, he was dead?"

"_Yes_!"

"Miss Evans, surely you understand that this is… well… it is rather unbelievable. The whole story. It is far too easy for Lestrange to claim that you…"

"He doesn't care about Remus," she said quietly. "He doesn't care at all. He won't even investigate any other possibility because he is only interested in me. And why would he care about Remus? Why would he…"

"Why _wouldn't_ he?" James asked, leaning forward.

Evans laughed bitterly. "I was so… confused… when I started doing magic. I was young, I didn't know what I was doing, didn't know… I couldn't understand why all these strange things started happening around me. Then I got my letter and all of a sudden this other world was open to me. An exciting world filled with… with _magic_. I remember seeing my first glimpse of Hogwarts and thinking that I could do anything, be anything, that I wanted."

James had no idea where she was going with this, but he let her talk anyway. There was a wistful quality to her voice, and her lips were turned into a smile, the first genuine smile he had seen on her face. Her gaze was soft, filled with fond remembrances, as she recalled those few happy memories.

Then her expression hardened and she dropped her gaze to the table.

"My sister didn't like it. Petunia… she was angry. Jealous. She told me I was a freak, she hated me. Hated what I had become, hated this other world… I asked her once, why she couldn't just accept me. She told me this was the price I had to pay for being different."

"Sibling relationships can be strained," James said, thinking of Sirius and his brother.

Evans glanced at him. "Do you have any siblings?"

"No," James admitted.

Evans said nothing for a while. Then, just as James resolved to ask another question, to turn the subject back to Remus Lupin, she said, "I guess I became a bit disillusioned at Hogwarts."

"Oh?" James commented, surprised. He'd loved Hogwarts. Everyone loved Hogwarts. How could she not feel the same way?

"The classes and professors were wonderful, but… it was my first introduction to the ideas of blood purity. To the people who thought I was filth, that I shouldn't even be allowed to have a wand. The price I paid for being different was to be estranged from my sister. But… but for what? For a world that looked down on me?"

"Not all witches and wizards are like that," James protested.

She gave him a faint smile. "I know. There are some who will stand up and fight back. But if you've done your research, then you also know that even though I was acquitted of the charges seven years ago, I was still punished for it."

"Yes," James agreed in a hoarse voice, trying to reign in his own anger at the unfairness of what had happened back then. "I read it. It was… it wasn't right."

"Remus was different, too. And he had to pay a price as well," Evans pressed on.

"How was he different?" James asked. He knew Lupin wasn't a Muggleborn, he'd read that much. He couldn't remember if he was a half-blood or a pureblood, but it didn't really matter. After all, they might not be particularly liked by people like Lestrange, but half-bloods weren't scorned the same way Muggleborns were.

Evans expelled a breath and said bluntly, "He was a werewolf."

James' jaw dropped. "_What_?"

"Lestrange knew. But not many others did. Remus didn't really tell anyone, and for the most part, he only took jobs where he didn't have to disclose his… _status_."

She spat out the last word as though it offended her which, James reflected, it probably did. Although a werewolf did not have to publicly disclose his or her condition, most employers did demand that sort of information, and there was legislation in place to require those questions to be answered truthfully. And there was also legislation in place that allowed people to discriminate against a werewolf in pretty much anyway they pleased.

"When did he learn of Mr. Lupin's… lycanthropy?" James asked, struggling to come up with a way of referring to Lupin's status without actually using the word _status_.

"A couple years after the last trial," Evans said with a sigh. "It was… it was about four years ago. A little while before Remus left for… for wherever he went."

James nodded, suddenly no longer wanting to ask questions. They still had a lot to talk about, but he needed time to wrap his mind around what he had just learned. He needed time to make sense of it all. He still wasn't convinced that Evans hadn't murdered Lupin, but it didn't really matter. He wasn't here to determine if she was actually innocent, he was just here to convince the Wizengamot that she was.

And to do that, he needed to sift through the information he had learned and formulate a plan of attack.

* * *

Frank Longbottom glanced up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and raised his eyebrows at the man who entered the small cubicle he called and office. Memos dashed overhead, zooming off to their intended recipients, and the sound of chatter drifted through the air, gossip and work mixing together. The Auror Department was overcrowded these days, but not because the number of Aurors had increased. In fact, very few witches and wizards had been accepted into the highly prestigious ranks of late, but the Department was slowly being filled with bureaucrats and office workers who cluttered up the place.

Frank didn't like it. As the incidents of Dark magic seemed to be on the rise – for reasons no one could quite fathom – the public was clamoring for Aurors, and yet the still wanted the same high standards. It was an impossible task to accomplish, but some people in power were clearly assigning Ministry workers to this particular department in the hopes that it would make it seem as though the number of Aurors was increasing.

He pushed those thoughts away and stood up, extending a hand. He had not had much of a reason to interact with James Potter before, but as the only remaining member of the Potter family, he had a fairly recognizable face.

"Mr. Potter," Frank said politely. "What can I do for you?"

Potter shook his hand firmly and answered, "I am representing Lily Evans in the trial for the murder of Remus Lupin."

Frank nodded. "So I've heard," he said quietly, gesturing for Potter to take a seat. He didn't want to talk about this, not really. He had a pretty good guess where the questions were headed, and didn't want to delve into the past. There were too many bad memories.

"I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for me," Potter said briskly, unrolling some parchment and withdrawing a quill from his cloak. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course," Frank said, trying to keep his voice calm and reasoned. His hands clenched into fists underneath the desk, and his eyes darted past Potter to the entrance to his cubicle. Would they be overheard? He did not want his own history to be added to the gossip mill.

Potter looked at him closely, eyes traveling from Frank's plastered smile to his clenched hands. "Just a few questions," he said again.

"I am just not sure how much help I can be," Frank answered. "I haven't seen Remus in years." He paused for a moment, then sighed heavily and added, "I guess I won't ever see him again, will I?"

It was a rhetorical question, said more to himself than to Potter, and the other wizard did not answer.

Instead, he said, "But you were friends with Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans prior to Mr. Lupin's disappearance?"

"Yes. We were friends," Frank agreed readily enough.

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Lupin?"

"The night before he left," Frank answered with a grimace. "That was three years ago. And before you ask, that was the last time I saw Lily, too. Until now."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Remus?" Frank shook his head. "He and Lily had a row, I was only there for the beginning of it. She wrote to me the next day, said Remus was gone and I…" He shrugged haplessly, eyes darting away. He couldn't explain this to James Potter, not really. It was too complicated, there was too much in his past.

"What did you do?" Potter pressed.

"Nothing," Frank answered honestly. "I did nothing. I tossed her letter in the fireplace and didn't think about it again for three years. Until he was found dead."

"You didn't care that your mate was missing?" Potter asked a bit skeptically. He jotted a note down on the parchment and then gave Frank another quick, contemplative look. "Can you tell me what happened that night? What was the row about?"

Frank laughed bitterly. "How much time do you have?" he asked.

To his surprise, Potter placed the quill down on the desk and said, "As much as it takes."

Frank accepted this in silence, then ran a hand through his hair. "I assume by now you know that Lily was once accused of murdering Lucius Malfoy?" Potter nodded, and he continued, "That was seven years ago. After the trial was over… Lily and I got into a few arguments. Remus took Lily's side, and it… well, it harmed our friendship. A lot. He was a loyal friend to her, and he was so angry at me for the things that had happened between Lily and I… She was forgiving, he wasn't."

Potter held up his hand to stop the story for a moment. "Sometimes," he said thoughtfully, "people are more willing to forgive slights against themselves than they are to forgive slights against people they love. Was Remus…?"

"In love with Lily?" Frank supplied. "Since day one, since the moment they met on the Hogwarts express, they had been close. I don't think he really realized that he was in love with her until after we left school but… yes. Yes, he was in love with Lily. Of course, I think everyone who ever met her was in love with her at some point."

"And the arguments between Lily and you? What were they about?"

"Malfoy," Frank said. "But I really don't want to elaborate much on that. It's in the past, she was acquitted of all charges, and let's just leave it at that." He said it firmly, sternly, hoping his tone would convey the fact that this topic was simply not open for discussion. He had no desire to rehash the past, the arguments, all the things he had done wrong and all the mistakes Lily had made.

He had other memories to dwell on, other horrors to relive.

He closed his eyes, drew a slow breath. Even now, he could picture his beloved Alice, her round face and gentle eyes, her smile as she gazed back at him.

"Mr. Longbottom?" Potter prompted softly.

"Four years ago, Lily and Remus started dating," Frank said, opening his eyes. "I don't know if she loved him the way he loved her, but she did care about him. He made her happy. And then…" He stopped, licked his suddenly dry lips, and forced himself to relax. The words hovered at the tip of his tongue but he couldn't say them, couldn't admit to the memory of…

He pushed back his chair suddenly and stood up, stepping around Potter and out of the cubicle. As he had suspected, a few employees had gathered around his office, hidden by the partial walls. They were listening to his story, eager to glean inside information about Lily Evans, the witch presumed guilty of two murders.

"Don't you all have work to be doing?" he snapped, his temper barely under control. When no one made a move to leave, he folded his arms over his chest and glared dangerously. "Don't make me call Moody," he threatened.

That, at least, got their attention, and they drifted away. But they would be back, that much was certain.

He walked back into the cubicle where Potter was still sitting at the desk, waiting. He wondered vaguely if Potter knew about Remus' lycanthropy. Had Lily told him? Would it matter? Would it come out at the trial?

Would everything come out at the trial? All the secrets they had kept buried, all the memories no one wanted to talk about anymore… splashed across the newspaper for the world to read because of this trial.

"My Alice was killed," he said bluntly, sitting down again. Better to say this all quickly, and without hesitation. If he could explain it in a detached and clinical matter, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

Although he doubted that would work.

"I remember reading about that," Potter said gravely. "I'm very sorry." His words were sympathetic and sincere, but it made no difference to Frank. He'd heard it too many times over the years, and those words never did anything to help ease the pain of losing her.

But he still said politely, "Thank you."

Alice's death had been the final nail in the coffin for the friendship. There had been other bumps in the road, but that was the one that finally tore them apart.

"It was four years ago," he explained. "She was killed by Dark magic. They never caught the people who did it. Remus wanted to help fight the Dark Arts, but he couldn't become an Auror, they wouldn't let him into the academy." He didn't bother explaining why, and Potter didn't ask. If Potter already knew that Remus was a werewolf, then he wouldn't need to ask, the answer would be obvious. And if he didn't know…

Well, he'd probably find it out soon enough.

"So he decided to fight the Dark Arts on his own. Freelance, I guess you would call it. Lily didn't like it, she said it was too dangerous. He got hurt a few times, and she wanted me to talk him out of it, but… I said no."

She hadn't understood. Alice was _dead_, murdered by Dark witches or wizards, and she wanted him to tell Remus to stop this? He _wanted_ people to be fighting back, even if they weren't Aurors. But she couldn't understand it, couldn't wrap her head around his need for justice, for revenge. She couldn't comprehend why stopping this kind of crime was so important to him.

"Over the year, it got worse. The last argument was about that. I left part way through, but Lily and Remus were still going at it. She wanted him to quit, he refused… he left. I didn't see either of them for three years. And now Remus is dead."

Potter scribbled a few more notes on his parchment and then nodded slowly. "These arguments between Miss Evans and Mr. Lupin," he asked, "were they ever in public?"

Frank shrugged. "Yeah. A lot, actually. No doubt Lestrange will use that against her in the trial."

Potter looked disgruntled as he answered, "Indeed."

* * *

_She is angry enough to slap him. To completely forget magic and her wand and to physically hurt him. And he is standing there, staring back at her, like he can't understand why she is asking this of him._

"_You want me to tell Remus _not_ to fight the Dark?" he asks, disbelief in his voice._

"_Frank," she pleads, because he is her friend, one of the few she has left, and she needs him on her side. She can't lose him, but she can't lose Remus, either. And this is dangerous, too dangerous, and why doesn't he understand?_

"_Alice is dead, Lily," he spits, face flushed angrily. The space between them is tense and charged with emotions and suddenly it feels like there is an insurmountable chasm separating them and she can't reach him anymore. The rage and grief in his eyes is a reflection of what he has been feeling and she has known all along that there is nothing she can say or do to help him heal._

_But she never expected his anger to turn towards her._

_He spins away from her and starts pacing, footsteps loud and angry on the floor of his flat. He is shaking with pent-up fury, and there is something dangerous in his eyes._

_It has been three years since the trial, only a few weeks since Alice's death, only a few days since Remus' decision and she is scared. She will lose him – both of them – and she knows it. And she has already lost so much._

"_This is dangerous, Frank," she says, and she grabs the front of his robes, unsure if she meant to hit him or hug him. "Remus will get hurt. Don't you see that, don't you understand?"_

"_These are things worth fighting for," he snaps back, eyes flashing as he yanks his robes from her grip. "How can you not understand _that_?"_

"_I do. I _do_!" she protests. And she does. But this isn't about justice, not for any of them. Remus is doing this for revenge and Frank is letting it happen to ease his guilt and it isn't about protecting society. It is about hurting those that hurt them and it isn't good and it isn't right and it isn't safe._

_And she doesn't want Remus to get hurt._

_But Frank turns away from her and says harshly, "No, you don't. You don't get it, and you're only thinking of yourself. _Again_."_

_His words are laced with venom, and she knows he is talking about more than just this argument. She bites her lip to keep from crying, but the tears still come, and as she turns and leaves the flat, she can't help but wonder how this all went so wrong.

* * *

_

"It doesn't make any sense," James announced as he signaled the bartender for a glass of Firewhisky and sank into the seat next to Sirius and Marlene. "Evans and Lupin fought a lot, but it was because Evans though Lupin was doing something too dangerous. She was trying to keep him _alive_. Lestrange can't make a case out of _that_."

"Long day?" Sirius said with a roll of his eyes, his tone sour and almost petulant. "Maybe you would have preferred to spend it with Narcissa? Remind me never to speak to you again."

Both James and Marlene ignored him, and Marlene said pointedly, "But he can make a case out of the fact that she was standing over his dead body, covered in his blood."

James conceded the point with a nod of his head.

"Did you get anything useful from her? Or from Longbottom?" Marlene pressed as she took a sip of her drink.

"Not a whole lot," James admitted. "Longbottom was more forthcoming then my client, but he still couldn't shed much light on this. And he refused to talk about Malfoy or that case. Though apparently he and Evans argued over it some."

"Really?" Marlene asked, eyebrow raised.

"Mm," James answered noncommittally. "But I'm starting to think maybe she didn't actually kill Lupin."

" I think Narcissa was toying with the idea of using me as birdfeed after we were through with our conversation," Sirius said, still whining. "Chop me up and leave me for the owls."

"I still don't get this thing with Malfoy, though," James said, continuing not to comment on Sirius' complaints. "I mean, Evans said there was nothing personal, just Malfoy hating Muggleborns and…"

"Wait a minute. Is that what she told you?" Sirius interjected with a frown, this time sounding grim.

James looked up at him. "Yeah. Why? What did your cousin say?"

Sirius shook his head. "Hate to break this to you, mate, but Evans is lying. She knew Malfoy quite well, and their arguments, their hatred… it _was_ personal."

"How so?" James questioned, leaning forward, unsure if he was excited or afraid to hear the answer. Maybe a little of both.

"Evans knew Narcissa in school. They were friends. Or, at least, they were friendly. Then Narcissa falls in love with Malfoy and he doesn't want her hanging out with Muggleborns and blood traitors, so…"

"She breaks off the friendship with Evans?" James guessed. "Even turns against her?"

"And Evans blamed Malfoy for that," Sirius finished with an emphatic nod. "So yeah… I'd say her hatred of him was personal."

"She's lying to you," Marlene said softly. "And if she lied to you about that…"

"…who knows what else she's lied about," James finished glumly.

Maybe Evans wasn't so innocent after all.


	6. Seven Years Ago

AN: This chapter takes place before the end of the last one; we get to see the conversation between Sirius and Narcissa. Also, in response to a comment about not getting anything from Lily's point of view - that is actually going to continue to be the case for most of this story. The only parts that will be from Lily's POV are the periodic flashbacks and I think one of the final chapters. But she will talk to James more about herself and her past in future chapters, so there will be some character development that way.

* * *

Chapter Six: Seven Years Ago

The Malfoy Manor was a sprawling estate, covering acres of land. The exterior was made mostly of black stone occasionally dotted with ornaments of sleek silver and steel. The wall that surrounded it was high enough to obscure most of the building from view, but a few towers rose upwards, outlined against the sky.

Sirius sighed as he stared at it. He had inherited enough money from his deceased uncle to live comfortably and without any real need to work, but it was nothing compared to the lavish inheritance that had been bestowed upon his cousin. With Lucius Malfoy dead, she was the sole owner of the family fortune, though one day it would pass along to her son, the young Draco.

The gate was made of iron, wrought in the shape of twisting serpents and a fierce dragon, complete with emerald eyes. Sirius reached forward, his fingertips gently resting on the stone that comprised the dragon's eye. He drew back sharply, heat scorching his fingertips, his skin turning pale pink.

The stone had burned him.

He almost laughed. It was not something Narcissa would have done – charming the gate to burn anyone who tried to enter – but more likely an idea that could be attributed to her late husband. Lucius Malfoy had always been a mixture of paranoia and haughty arrogance, and would have definitely been worried about intruders.

Sirius had rarely been to this particular Manor, seeing no real reason to venture into Wiltshire. He saw Narcissa a handful of times each year, usually at some Ministry event, and they would exchange strained pleasantries. Unlike the rest of the family, she did not harbor as much obvious hatred for him, but there was certainly no love lost between the two.

He could only imagine her surprise when his owl arrived, requesting a visit. It probably equaled his own surprise when he received her prompt acceptance of his request and invited him to tea.

He looked around. There was no way to announce his presence, no knocker or doorbell of any sort. And yet the gate would not open for him. He wondered vaguely if Narcissa had changed her mind, but then dismissed that thought. There was probably some spell that alerted Narcissa to his arrival, and she was simply taking her time in answering. She certainly wouldn't rush for _him_.

Sure enough, the gate swung open a few moments later, silently allowing him entrance.

The path led straight towards the house, lined on either side by tall, perfectly groomed trees. Beyond the trees, the grass sloped up and down in gently rolling hills, dotted with shrubs and statues and bursts of color in the form of clusters of flowers. Sirius glanced left and right as he walked, taking in the sight. He didn't particularly like it, it was far too organized and geometrical, as though the Malfoys had tried to take all the wild beauty out of nature. As though they wanted to prove that they could conquer everything, including the land.

But thoughts of the grounds left his mind as he stopped in front of the Manor itself. The black stone looked cold and foreboding, and each window was cloaked in a deep green curtain, lined with silver thread. He craned his neck back and looked up at the roof, where several gargoyles stood, frozen in the act of lunging forward, attacking.

He looked back at the double doors just as they began to open, welcoming him into the house.

He curled his burnt hand into a fist, wincing a little at the protest of the skin. His palm was sore, and stung a little.

"If you play with fire, Sirius, you will get burned."

Narcissa appeared before him, her fair beauty a strong contrast to the darkness of the mansion. Her blonde hair was pulled into a casually elegant twist, and her thin frame was draped in expensive blue robes. She smiled at him, a calm, cold smile that did not reach her eyes.

Sirius pulled out his wand and tapped it against his palm, murmuring a healing spell under his breath. The burn instantly disappearing, and a tingling sensation ran through his hand towards the tips of his fingers.

"Please," Narcissa said, gesturing with one arm, "come in."

And she turned and floated away.

Sirius followed her, his footsteps sounding heavy and out of place on the stone floor. They walked through the corridor in silence, encountering no one else. More than once, Sirius thought his cousin might turn aside into one of the many rooms they passed, but she continued forward until they had walked the entire length of the Manor, and found themselves on the back patio.

A small table had been set for them, complete with a teapot, a plate of biscuits, and a bowl of grapes. It was not particularly fancy, but it was still more than Sirius had expected.

Of course, he had _expected_ that Narcissa would refuse to meet him at all.

"Please, sit down," she said, her voice low and melancholy.

Sirius nodded and slid into the offered seat, eyeing Narcissa shrewdly. She had never been as wild as he and his brother, nor as outspoken and brash as either of her sisters, but this quiet dignity was still always unsettling to see. The death of her husband had changed her, and over the past seven years, she had become little more than a shadow of her once-vibrant self.

He had never imagined she would have taken the loss quite so hard.

"I was surprised to receive your owl," Narcissa said, pouring a cup of tea for her cousin. "I suppose it is too much to hope that you have finally realized the error of your ways and decided to rejoin the family?"

Sirius raised the tea to his lips and took a sip, almost expecting it to be poisoned. With narrowed eyes, he said, "The family has nothing than I want anymore. I am perfectly content with my life."

"Still running around with Potter?" she asked, her own cup of tea poised at her lips. When Sirius nodded in the affirmative, she added, "Well, at least you have enough common sense to choose a pureblood as your best friend, even if he happens to be a blood traitor. Now if only Potter would settle down with that little McKinnon girl he works with…"

"I don't think James and Marlene are going to become an item any time soon," Sirius said, biting off the words.

"Well, with a bloodline like the Potters, who else could he be after?" Narcissa asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I know he was in Gryffindor," and she spat the name as though it tasted foul on her tongue, "but surely he has enough common sense to know that he has to marry someone… acceptable." She regarded Sirius gravely as she added, "Something you would do well to remember, too."

Sirius put his tea down, shoving the cup onto the table with a little more force than absolutely necessary. "Spare me the lecture, Narcissa," he snapped. "I did not come here to have my views mocked."

The sparkle of personality that had flickered through Narcissa's eyes during their brief conversation dimmed almost immediately, and her expression was once more politely disinterested. She looked away from him, and he followed her gaze. The patio overlooked a garden, a burst of cheerful color that stood out against the overwhelming green. Whites and blues and pinks overlapped each other, mixing about in no particular order. A gentle wind blew over the ground, carrying the overwhelming scent of flowers with it.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and looked back at his cousin. She was staring down on the table, her hands folded in her lap.

"It hurt them, you know," she said stiffly. "When you left. Your mother, your father… and Regulus."

Sirius slammed his hand down on the table, causing it to shake under the force of his anger. "Regulus made his own choices," he spat.

He had not seen his brother in years. The last time their paths had crossed, it had been at the funeral for their mother. He had gone, not out of any sense of obligation to the woman, but because, with her dead, he was now the eldest Black and the head of the family. It had been expected – in fact, required, according to wizarding custom – that he be present to accept the mantle of leadership.

He had scoffed at the very notion of wanting any part of the family leadership, quarreled savagely with Bellatrix, and spared only enough time to tell Regulus that, should he ever come to his senses and want out of the family, Sirius was still willing to accept him.

Regulus had punched him hard enough to knock loose a few teeth, and that had been the end of the conversation.

"Of course," Narcissa said softly, and with just a little bit of spite in his voice. "He made his choices, and you made yours. Don't act like you are the only one who was hurt by it, _dear cousin_. I know what it is like to watch a sibling walk away."

"And you should have gone with Andromeda, rather than waste your time with Bella," Sirius retorted fiercely. "Insanity runs in this family, and Bella certainly has more than her fair share."

"So do you," Narcissa answered. "Why are you here, Sirius?"

"James wanted me to speak to you," Sirius answered. "He wanted… he wanted to know about…"

"Lily Evans?" Narcissa supplied when Sirius hesitated. Her eyes were momentarily lit with a fiery hatred, but that soon melted away, and her entire countenance sagged underneath a sense of resignation. "Yes, I guessed that might have been the case. I assumed it could hardly be a coincidence that you requested to visit around the same time Potter chose to defend that murderer."

"She was acquitted on all charges," Sirius said firmly.

Narcissa laughed coolly. "She was guilty. Everyone knows it." And she leaned back in her seat, hands folded and resting on the table.

"Yes, you seem to have made it your life's mission to ruin her," Sirius sneered.

Narcissa shrugged gracefully. "I've only done what any devoted wife would do to avenge her husband's murder."

"Why was Lestrange so desperate to have her found guilty? Why did he hold onto that loss for so long? Seven years to cling to a pathetic grudge?"

"Well, she did murder his brother-in-law," Narcissa answered. "Or did you forget that Rodolphus married my sister?"

"It's hard to forget _that_," Sirius answered. "But still… does Lestrange really care about you or your darling Lucius that much?"

Eyes flashing, Narcissa answered through pursed lips, "The rest of us don't so easily forget the ties that bind a family together."

"Ah, yes… because, certainly, no one in your family simply refused to acknowledge Andromeda after she married Ted…" Sirius drawled. "You and Bellatrix both forget the bonds of family just as quickly as the rest of us if it suits you. If it is in the name of pureblood fanaticism."

"She forgot us, too," Narcissa murmured.

Sirius heaved a sigh. This argument was getting him nowhere, and he didn't really want to stay in this gloomy Manor for any longer than was absolutely necessary. But he had promised James…

Which meant he needed to get to the point. Quickly. Before Narcissa drove him crazy.

"Then let's try a different question," he said. "Why would Evans have wanted to kill your husband?"

"She didn't like him," Narcissa answered. "Hated him, actually. What other reason did she need?"

It was at that moment that something appeared in the sky over the garden, hurtling recklessly around, buffeted by the wind. Sirius shaded his eyes against the sun and blinked a few times before he was able to make out the silhouette of a young boy – perhaps seven or eight years of age – clinging to a broom.

Narcissa's lips curved into a fond smile, her expression softening.

"Draco," she explained in a low murmur. "I just bought him the new Cleansweep and he's been practicing on it ever since."

Sirius watched as the blonde boy flipped his broom upside down and dangled, nearly losing control. It seemed to Sirius as though Draco wasn't so much flying the broom as holding on for dear life.

But Narcissa did not seem particularly concerned. "He's showing off," she said. "He always does, when he knows I'm watching. I think he's trying to scare me with his reckless antics."

Sure enough, a moment later, Draco righted the broom and went into a spiraling dive, plummeting towards the ground.

Narcissa averted her gaze, lifting one hand to shield her from the sight of her son moving at breakneck speed.

"Boys will be boys," she whispered.

Sirius watched, unwillingly impressed, as Draco pulled the broom up sharply just before colliding with the ground. Keeping the same speed, he raced towards the sky, climbing higher and higher until he was just a speck far above them. He might be only a child, but he certainly had a talent for flying.

"I hired a flying instructor for him when he was little, you know," Narcissa continued, looking over at Sirius with a smile full of happy remembrances. "He's loved it so much. I try to give him the very best of everything… because I can't give him his father."

The light was gone entirely, drained out of her, and Sirius couldn't help but gape at the change. Her features practically aged before his very eyes, her face becoming lined with grief and exhaustion.

"Why did Evans hate your husband?" Sirius questioned.

Narcissa swallowed uneasily. "It was because of me," she admitted. "Lily didn't like it when Lucius and I stated dating."

Sirius' mouth dropped open. "You knew Evans? You were friends with her?"

"No," Narcissa said sharply, but then deflated. "Maybe. I don't… I don't really know." She looked up at Draco, who was now flying close enough that they could see his outline, if not his features. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts, you know," she said.

Sirius nodded. He hadn't known that, actually, but he did the math, and determined that Narcissa's comment meant that Evans was only a few years younger than both James and himself.

"We never spoke. Why would I waste my breath on a Mudblood?" the blonde aristocrat asked.

"Don't say that word," Sirius hissed.

But Narcissa ignored him and continued thoughtfully, "Then, in my sixth year, we were in Potions together. Only a few of us passed the OWLS, and there wasn't an even number of Slytherins or Gryffindors… I was partnered with her." She turned her gaze to Sirius and said bluntly, flatly, "Imagine my surprise that she was actually _good_ at it. Slughorn had always praised her in the past, but this was the first time that I really saw just how talented she was."

"Yes," Sirius said sarcastically, "who knew a Muggleborn could actually be good at magic?"

Again, Narcissa ignored what he had said. "We weren't friends, but we weren't enemies. She was… smart. Brilliant, really. Bellatrix had graduated by that point, but when she found out I was spending time with Lily, she was furious. Wrote my all sorts of nasty letters, but I… NEWT level Potions was a challenge, and I wanted to do well. And Lily was good at it."

"So you decided to be friends with Lily because it would help you pass Potions?" Sirius demanded, torn between being disgusted at her ideas of friendship and surprised that she would ever admit to the possibility of a Muggleborn being smarter than she was.

"We weren't friends," Narcissa corrected. "We were… friendly. And I will admit that I felt some fondness for her. I occasionally sought out her company even when we were not studying. But Lily was… and probably still is… too self-righteous for her own good." She was looking at her son again, watching as he drifted away, disappearing behind a row of trees. Her gaze was hard and angry, but there was still the resignation, the sense of acceptance that Sirius struggle to reconcile with the cousin he had once known.

Narcissa had once hexed Regulus after he had stolen her diary. She had been nine at the time, and Regulus had been covered in itchy boils for hours before any of the adults could figure out how to undo what she had done. Bellatrix had been proud, Andromeda had been disgusted, and Sirius had done his best to hide his laughter, not wanting anyone to think he was actually having a good time.

It was one of the few holiday dinners that he could remember enjoying. And it had only been enjoyable because he had been able to watch his brother hopping around in pain and mortification for several hours.

On a whim, he said, "Do you remember that time Regulus stole your diary?"

Narcissa frowned thoughtfully, then smirked. "Yes," she said, faint laughter in her voice. But it was gone quickly, and her expression sobered as she added, "We were quite childish."

"But never self-righteous?" Sirius asked pointedly.

Narcissa's eyes hardened. "Not like Lily was. She couldn't understand why I still clung to my views on blood purity. I explained to her, several times, that I was a Black, a member of an elite, wealthy, prestigious family. She didn't understand. She didn't know what it meant to be a Black. She… she always spoke so callously, so cruelly, about my family. The words she would use to describe them…"

"Like you called her a Mudblood?" Sirius interjected.

"…as though they were fifth. Not fit to call themselves witches and wizards. As though she was superior to everyone. Smarter, prettier... more... _honorable_. She went on and on about prejudice against Muggleborns and part-humans, about the need for tolerance. But she was prejudiced, too."

"How so?"

Narcissa drew a deep breath. "I started dating Lucius in my seventh year. She baited him. She baited all of them, Bellatrix and Rodolphus as well the few times she met them. They were purebloods, they were Slytherins. So they couldn't have any problems in their lives, could they?" She rolled her pretty eyes, her voice becoming positively glacial, "For Lily, Slytherins were always in the wrong. Myself included. We were never victims, we could do nothing right. Not to her."

Sirius leaned forward and said emphatically, "How many lives does our family ruin, simply because we can? We look down upon Muggleborns and half-bloods as though they are not worth our time or consideration. As though they are not even human. Our family, Narcissa, has been mixed up in the Dark Arts for centuries. Maybe Evans was prejudiced against you all because you _were_ always wrong."

Narcissa's pale face drained of color, becoming even more white. For a moment, Sirius thought she might simply disappear before his eyes.

But then she said fiercely, "She didn't understand how hard it was for me to be friendly to her, that it was straining my relationship with my family. With Bella and my parents. With Lucius, the man I loved. She just… she wanted me to choose her over them. Over my own family. She kept saying I should do it because it is _right_."

"It _is_ right," Sirius nearly exploded, jumping to his feet. "How can you justify these people? Your own sister, who used the Dark Arts on younger students at Hogwarts, who supported legislation banning Muggleborns from holding a position in the Ministry, who tried to get Gringotts removed from goblin control. And your husband…"

"Leave Lucius out of this!" Narcissa snarled, rising to her feet as well. Spots of red appeared on her cheeks, a sign of her fury, and Sirius took an involuntary step backwards. "How many people did you bully at Hogwarts, Sirius? You took great pleasure in pranking Slytherins."

"That was just for laughs…"

"Was it?" Narcissa asked, cutting across his defense. "I seem to recall several of them ending up in the Hospital Wing. _They_ didn't seem to be laughing."

Sirius forced himself to stay calm. It was true, he had been a bully in the past. Although, in the case of the Slytherins, many of them had hexed him as well, and he felt little remorse for his actions. But he did often think with regret on some of the pranks he had played on hapless members of the other Houses.

Still, it wasn't the same as torturing people. It wasn't the same as killing them.

And he had grown up, he had _stopped_ bullying people. And the rest of his family… they _hadn't_.

Narcissa sank back into her chair and Sirius followed suit, both of them silent.

Sirius could not help but feel a slight amount of admiration for Evans, though. She may be a murderer – although that had yet to be proven – but she had at least had the guts and determination to fight against bigotry and discrimination. To see the good in Narcissa, and do her damnedest to help her friend overcome the bad.

But in the case of a Black, the only way to get rid of the bad traits was to walk away from the family entirely, and it was clear that the blonde witch would never do that.

But Sirius had done it. And it had hurt. By the time he'd left, he hadn't cared about his parents or most of his cousins, but it had hurt to walk away from his brother. To face the reality that his brother was going to turn out like their parents, that he was going down the wrong path, and there was nothing Sirius could do to stop it. He could only save himself, and doing that, breaking away from them, had meant giving up on Regulus.

But if he hadn't, they would have forced him to become something he wasn't, something he loathed.

It had hurt. And it filled him with regret and horror and disgust. But it had been the right thing to do. If there was ever a way to save his brother, he would be there to help. But until then, he had to save himself.

There were things more important than family. Not many of them, but a few.

"When Lucius and I started dating," Narcissa said suddenly, "I could ignore Lily's comments. But when it became serious, when I realized that this was the man that I loved, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with… it was harder. And Lily had no compassion for me. She wasted it all on other Mudbloods, on part-humans, on her precious charity cases, and she had no understanding, no sympathy, no comprehension of the fact that I was in love with Lucius. When we left Hogwarts, I thought it would be over. We would no longer need to interact at all, and I would be free from her. But she didn't let go, didn't… she kept trying to convince me to…"

Narcissa trailed off and was silent for a long moment, thinking. Sirius watched her, waiting to hear more.

"She didn't want me to marry Lucius, but I did. Then I had Draco, and she was so angry. She said Lucius would be a bad father, that he would teach Draco all the wrong things. Did I really want that for my son? She went out of her way to bait Lucius when she saw him. And sometimes, I think she went out of her way to find him, just so she could argue with him, mock him… She threatened to kill him, even."

"Yes, I read about that," Sirius said.

"That was seven years ago. Five years since I started spending time with her. Three years since we left Hogwarts. Two years since I had married Lucius and one year since Draco was born. She threatened to kill him… and a few days later, he ends up dead."

"She said she didn't do it," Sirius protested.

"She did it," Narcissa answered firmly. "I do not particularly care what the Wizengamot decided. She was guilty, and everyone knew it. Even Frank and Alice Longbottom, and they were suppose to be her friends." Her voice was tired again, filled with weariness. "Only Remus Lupin believed she was innocent… and now she's killed him, too."

"She hasn't been proven guilty for that, either," Sirius argued. "But you don't care, I presume?"

Narcissa laughed coolly. "Think what you want, Sirius, your opinions means nothing to me. The Wizengamot let her go, but I could not. She murdered my husband, and then I am left alone with a child and she gets to continue her life as though nothing has changed? I couldn't allow that."

"So you decided to get even with her. And Lestrange and Bella were all too happy to help," Sirius concluded.

"I wanted her to know what it felt like to be alone. I wanted her to know what it felt like to lose everything that mattered. I wanted her, for once, to feel the way I did every time she called me a bad friend, every time she looked at me with that disapproving gaze, like I was beneath her."

They were quiet again. Narcissa sat there, looking out over the garden, the small explosion of color in the otherwise dreary grounds. Somewhere beyond the row of trees, Draco raced back and forth on his broom, his laughter caught up in the wind. And Sirius wordlessly cursed James for asking him to do this. He had never wanted to talk to anyone in his family, never wanted to face more proof at just how calculating and vindictive they could be.

The tea had gotten cold.


	7. The Rest of the World

Chapter Seven: The Rest of the World

James stared moodily out of the window of the large dining room, trying his best to ignore the emotions swirling in the pit of his stomach. The fact that Evans had lied to him should not have come as a surprise. The fact that she might be guilty should not have disappointed him. And yet, somehow…

He tried not to dwell on what Sirius had told him, but the words repeated themselves in his mind. He hadn't been there, but he could picture Narcissa' Malfoy's expression perfectly, could almost hear _her_ voice. And the story she had told…

"James?"

James turned towards the elderly woman who entered the room. Stepping away from the window, he greeted her with a smile. "Mrs. McKinnon."

Aurora McKinnon gave him a bright smile as she moved forward. Despite her old age, she was still full of energy, and seemed to fill up the room like a whirlwind. Her nearly jet black hair was a mass of unruly curls that framed high cheekbones and dark brown eyes, and her thin body was always covered in expensive – and often showy – robes.

Tonight was no exception. The dark crimson of her robes were embroidered by thin lines of gold thread, and the neckline was boarding on indecent.

"James, James, James," she said, shaking her head and enveloping him in a quick hug. "Oh, my dear, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? My Lena doesn't bring you home nearly enough these days."

James glanced over the witch's shoulder and saw Marlene appear in the doorway, rolling her eyes. He bit back a grin – it was common knowledge to both of them and all of their friends that Mrs. McKinnon was eager to see her daughter married to a Potter – and answered, "I've been busy at work."

Mrs. McKinnon clicked her tongue impatiently and said in a teasing tone, "That's not excuse."

James shook his head and wondered idly if he would ever be able to convince Marlene's mother that he wasn't actually the most eligible bachelor for her.

Mrs. McKinnon drew back and gazed at him, her hands resting on his shoulders. Warm brown eyes smiled benevolently at him, and then she grinned abruptly and dragged him over to the nearest chair.

"Sit down, sit down. Lena!" She raised her voice to call for her daughter, whirling around quickly, and was surprised to find the young witch already standing behind her. "Oh, darling! You nearly gave me a such a fright. Do sit down and keep James company, won't you? Dinner will be ready in just a moment, I'm sure. Linny has quite outdone herself."

James couldn't keep back his broad smile at that, the McKinnon's house elf was an amazing cook.

Marlene obediently took a seat on the sofa across from James, clearly hoping that by not sitting right next to him, she could somehow indicate to her mother that this was _not_ a match she wanted. But James sincerely doubted that Mrs. McKinnon would notice this.

"Your father will be down shortly," Mrs. McKinnon said to Marlene. "I am just going to slip in and check on Linny. Not that she needs to be checked on. Dinner will be quite fabulous, won't it? Oh, you really do need to come by more often, James. Everything is just so much _better_ when you're around."

And she gave Marlene a very obvious wink before rushing away.

Marlene groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "Subtlety is not one of my mother's strengths," she muttered.

James laughed. "So I've seen. She is quite… adamant."

"I doubt she is the only one. If we got married, the pureblood community would throw a party. Lestrange might actually stop hating you," Marlene replied.

James rolled his eyes. "I don't anything will get him to hate me," he countered. "Particularly not after this. He won't forgive me for representing Evans. Not that I particularly want his forgiveness." He rose from his seat, unable to sit still. He thought about pacing, but knew that it wouldn't help. He needed to focus on something else, something wouldn't remind him of Evans.

Why was he even this upset about it? It's not like he had believed her to be completely honest before this.

"She's just a client. It isn't your job to care about her innocence or guilt," Marlene said after a long pause. "You have to focus on proving Lestrange wrong. Regardless of what actually happened to Lupin, your job is have the Wizengamot acquit Evans of all charges."

James didn't answer. She was right, of course. From the moment he had agreed to be counsel for Evans, he had resigned himself to only one job. Setting her free. Beyond that, what did anything else matter? If he was able to obtain Evans' acquittal, it was still unlikely that he would ever see her again. She would move on with the rest of her life, and h would move on with his, and unless she was once more accused of murder, their paths would not cross.

And Narcissa Malfoy would likely continue to wreak havoc on Evans' life.

"I still don't think we have the whole story. How can I defend her if I don't know everything?" James asked bitterly.

"The same way you would defend anyone else," Marlene replied tersely. "You do the best you can with what you are given."

The rest of the conversation was cut off by the appearance of Marlene's father. He was a short man, slightly pudgy with a soft-around-the-edges look. Where Mrs. McKinnon was full of energy and passion, he was laidback and good-humored, always in ready to smile, always ready to laugh. Nothing ever seemed to faze him.

He smiled, the lines in his face deepening, and extended a hand. "Good to see you, James."

"You, too, Mr. McKinnon," James said, shaking the man's hand.

Charles McKinnon wrapped his daughter in a quick hug, then turned back to James and asked jovially, "And how is your work these days?"

"Good," James answered. "Quite good."

"Come, come, sit down," Mrs. McKinnon called, poking her head into the parlor and beckoning them all to the dining room. "Dinner is served and Linny has made the most spectacular stuffed cabbage!"

As they hurried to take their seats around the table, the delicious smells of food making James' mouth water, Mr. McKinnon turned towards his daughter and said, "And you? How is your work, darling?"

"The same as always," Marlene answered dismissively.

"Is it getting monotonous, then?" Mr. McKinnon asked, throwing James an amused look.

Marlene glanced at James. "Of course not."

"Will you give me a different answer if I ask the question when James is not in the room?"

Marlene laughed them, throwing a smile to her father. "Of course not," she repeated.

"Although you might be changing your answer if Lestrange gives us any trouble," James quipped.

"Lestrange? Rodolphus Lestrange?" Mr. McKinnon asked, his fork poised in midair above his plate. He stared hard at James, then switched his gaze to Marlene, and appeared not even to notice when his wife placed some of the stuffed cabbage on his plate.

"Yes. It's this case. You know James is representing Lily Evans, right? I told you this already," Marlene answered

"I… well, yes. I didn't realize that Lestrange was prosecuting… although I suppose I should have expected that," Mr. McKinnon muttered.

"Do you know him well?" James asked. "Lestrange, I mean?"

Mr. McKinnon frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "We've crossed paths once or twice in the past, but otherwise, I tend to avoid him and his family." He pushed the cabbage on his plate back and forth with his fork, and then added, "The last time I really spoke to him was several years ago. Back when I worked at the Ministry. Since then… we might both be purebloods, but it doesn't mean we run in the same circles."

James swallowed uneasily and slanted a quick look at Marlene. She, too, was gazing at her father with apprehension. Neither of them had ever seen him this serious – or this obviously distressed – before. He was so often light-hearted and full of mirth, and this was quite a surprise.

Mrs. McKinnon shook her head. "Really, Charles, there is no reason to speak of this," she chided gently, her usual exuberance held at bay.

"Speak of what?" James asked quckly.

But Mr. McKinnon shook his head. "No, my boy, Aurora is correct. Let the past stay in the past." And with considerable effort, he forced a smile back to his features.

James said nothing. It was clear that this was an unpleasant topic for Mr. McKinnon, and he had no intention of prying out any of the details. At least not over dinner.

The rest of the meal passed comfortably enough. After a few moments of awkward silence, Mrs. McKinnon burst into a tirade against the newest fashions in robes design, and then the conversation turned to talk of Quidditch and other benign subjects. James found himself forgetting about everything else and enjoying the evening of good food and good company.

He had always liked Marlene's parents. After his own had died while he was still at Hogwarts, he had taken to visiting hers frequently instead. After all, it wasn't like he could spend his time with Sirius' family, given that they would most likely call him a blood traitor and ban him from their home as they had done with their own son.

And the McKinnons had welcomed him with open arms, although he thought that perhaps some of that was due to their hopes that he would marry their daughter. He had been unable to explain to them that he viewed Marlene as a sister more than anything else, and the idea of marrying her was actually slightly disturbing.

But he did like being included in their family.

After dinner, they retired to the parlor, and Mrs. McKinnon instantly drew Marlene into a critique of the younger witch's wardrobe, which was apparently not flamboyant enough for her mother. Marlene protested, all in vain, as Mrs. McKinnon insisted on several necessary alterations to the style of Marlene's robes.

James listened with amusement for a moment, then looked over at Mr. McKinnon, who sat by his side.

The older wizard was frowning again.

"You need to be careful, James," he said in a firm voice. "Lestrange is ambitious. And dangerous." He paused, then added, "And powerful. Don't forget that."

"I won't," James promised, and wondered vaguely why he was receiving this warning.

Mr. McKinnon looked down at his hands which were folded stiffly in his lap, and said, "You have to understand… Aurora and I… we simply aren't cut out for _adventure_. For all my wife's exuberance, she really does enjoy the quiet of her life. As do I."

"I can appreciate that, too," James pointed out.

"Yes, yes," Mr. McKinnon said absently, patting James on the shoulder. "Of course you can. But you're young, James. And your head is filled with all these notions of… of _excitement_."

James shrugged. He wasn't sure he considered attempting to stop Lestrange from sending Evans to Azkaban – or worse – was really exciting, but he didn't feel it would be right to argue with Mr. McKinnon.

"You see, this is why the rising Dark worries me so much. Aurora and I are well beyond the age when we can be of any help fighting the evils out there, but you… and Marlene… this might end up being your battle. It worries me, it really does."

James raised an eyebrow. "The rising Dark?"

"Oh, it hasn't reached the paper yet. I don't think the _Daily Prophet_ cares much to report such depressing news as this. Particularly when the mysterious deaths all seem to be happening to Muggles and Muggleborns. But the Muggle papers… they do report it. Dumbledore has…"

"Dumbledore?" James interrupted. "What does the Headmaster have to do with this?"

Mr. McKinnon drew himself up and said sternly, "Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard alive."

"Well… yes, I know he is," James agreed, feeling utterly bewildered by the strange turn the conversation had taken. He chanced a quick glance at Marlene and her mother, but neither were paying any attention to the two men. He sighed, and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"Several years ago, the same things started happening," Mr. McKinnon explained. "Muggles killed with Dark curses, werewolves and vampires encroaching on wizarding communities, attacking helpless victims. There wasn't much of it, and I don't think anyone really noticed. Except Dumbledore."

Mr. McKinnon stopped, closing his eyes for a moment as though remembering everything. In the light of the fire, he seemed suddenly so much older than James had remembered. He knew Marlene's parents were old, but this… this was different. He seemed not just physically old, but mentally old as well.

It made James wonder for the briefest of moments just how much energy it took to be constantly cheerful.

Then Mr. McKinnon said, "Dumbledore was worried. I think he suspected something, although I don't know what it was. He didn't share the details of his suspicions with me, but I remember… he came to visit one night. He was rattled, upset. Scared, I think. And that was what frightened me the most, because if Dumbledore was afraid…" He trailed off and did not finish the sentence, but James understood.

If Dumbledore was afraid, then the problem must have been truly horrifying.

"He asked me to speak to Lestrange. There were certain people he thought could be involved in this. People in power. Lestrange was one of them, but I don't know who else he suspected."

"What did he want you to speak to Lestrange about?" James asked, leaning forward eagerly. The tale was unfolding to be far more of a drama than he had expected.

"Nothing, really. Just to keep an eye on him. To see if he was acting at all… suspicious. And I tried, I really did. I found some things… bits and pieces, but nothing that could form a coherent picture. I reported it all faithfully to Dumbledore, but it made little sense to me. And then, a couple weeks after Dumbledore asked me to… investigate… Lestrange came to my office. As I said, I was still at the Ministry then, and he was there as well, so it was hardly unusual for me to see him around, but when he showed up… it was different. He was angry, threatening. He told me to back off, that he knew what I was doing and I needed to stop it. I told Dumbledore, and we decided it was best if I followed that advice. I didn't want Lestrange to have any reason to target myself or Aurora. Or Marlene. He is powerful, James. He was powerful then, too."

"And then what happened?" James asked breathlessly.

Mr. McKinnon shrugged. "Nothing much. The attacks died down. They still happened occasionally, but not enough to be noticeable. Not that most of the wizarding world even noticed any of it in the first place, but… Those of us who had been paying attention thought that it was over. But Dumbledore thought that whoever was behind those attacks was just waiting, biding his time."

"Waiting for what?" James pressed, frowning.

"I don't know. Nothing's happened, and it has been several years. Still… there has been an increase in Dark activity. Not much, but the same as there was all those years ago."

"How many years? How long has it been?"

"Hm? Oh, let me see…" Mr. McKinnon's expression grew thoughtful as he considered this, and then said, "I think this all must have been about seven years ago."

"_Mother_!" Marlene's voice, high and shrill, cut through the conversation, and James turned towards his friend. She was on her feet, and looked thoroughly disgruntled, while Mrs. McKinnon hovered in front of her with a defiant look in her eyes.

"It _is_ important, Lena. A proper wardrobe is one of the most valuable assets any witch or wizard can have."

"Are they still talking about clothing?" James muttered, shaking his head in amusement.

"I don't judge people based on how they look," Marlene said with a glower. "Why should I let others judge me?"

But Mrs. McKinnon didn't seem at all perturbed by the implied reprimand in those words, and clicked her tongue. "_Of course_ you judge people based on appearances, Lena. _Everyone_ does. You are smart and you are fun and you are beautiful. You never seem to worry about hiding your brains or your personality, so why hide your beauty?"

"Mum…"

"So it is decided," Mrs. McKinnon pressed on, clapping her hands together and completely ignoring her daughter's horrified expression. "We will go shopping together tomorrow." Spinning towards James, she added, "You will be able to spare my daughter for the afternoon, won't you?"

Marlene through James a pleading glance, but James took one look at Mrs. McKinnon's flushed face and bright eyes and decided he would much rather brave the wrath of the daughter than the wrath of the mother.

"Of course," he said quickly. "Take all the time you need tomorrow."

"Well, good. Then it is settled," Mrs. McKinnon said, a note of finality in her voice. "I always knew you were someone who truly understood the importance of clothing, James." There was no irony in her voice, so James reasoned that she must have either forgotten that every single one of his robes looked almost exactly the same, or else she was choosing to ignore that particular detail.

He smiled.

Marlene sent him a frosty glare.

* * *

Frank Longbottom glanced one more time around the small, disheveled room. It had not been touched since the removal of Remus' body. The pieces of the shattered lamp still littered the floor, and the cabinet opposite him has not yet been repaired. The blood on the floor had hardened and the air was tinted with a foul, metallic smell. He grimaced and tried not to breath through his nose.

"Where did you go, Remus?" he murmured. "And why did you come back?"

He wasn't expecting an answer, although he certainly would have appreciated one. While the conversation with James Potter had left him uneasy, the conversation with Lily in Azkaban had left him downright bewildered. He could not imagine that she would ever do anything to hurt Remus, and yet…

He rubbed the back of his head absently with one hand, the other clenched tightly around his wand.

A cold breeze drifted through the window, and he frowned. They had closed it tightly before they left, or, at least, Moody had said that he did. It was the only change they had made to this room, the one concession to protect what was inside from the weather. But it was partially open now, just a slight gap.

Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of a shadow moving backwards, disappearing into the dark.

He crossed to the window, half-believing it was all a trick of the light, or of his mind. Or perhaps a reporter looking for more details for his sensation article? It had been years since the last trial, but this repeat, this rematch of Lily and Lestrange, was sure to make exciting reading.

He pushed the window open a bit further.

He scrutinized the area carefully, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to calm his suddenly frayed nerves. Something twisted in the pit of his stomach, and for a moment, he saw Alice's face, her eyes wide and filled with horror. And lifeless.

And then he heard the creak of the floorboard. With Auror-trained reflexes, he spun, his wand at the ready, and silently cast the shield charm.

The spell that was cast at him had come from just beyond the door, and it collided with his shield charm in an explosion of heat. A figure came closer, body covered in a hooded cloak, obscuring any identifiable features from view. Frank darted to the left as another spell was cast and his shield crackled and crumpled under the strain of his opponent's magic.

The Auror cast his own silent stunning spell, which was easily parried.

The cloaked figure entered the room, sliding through the shadows along the wall. Frank could not tell if it was a man or woman, but he had little time to wonder about that as a burst of fiery red light filled the room. It was a rope, he realized abruptly, a rope made entirely of flames.

_Aguamenti_! Frank thought desperately, and a jet of water spurted from the end of his wand and met with the fire in midair, producing a sizzling sound and an incredible amount of steam that turned the air hazy.

Through the fog, he saw his opponents spring forward, and he stumbled back, tripping over the tangled edge of the bedspread. He hit the ground, his arms bracing himself against the impact, and rolled away on instinct, just barely getting out of the way before a jet of red light struck the floor, causing scorch marks to appear in a circular pattern.

Frank rolled over and kicked out hard with both feet, striking the other person in the legs. There was the sound of a thud, and then he and his opponents were tangled in twisted robes and flying fists, each struggling to get away from the other.

He brought his wand up sharply, a jerky movement, and said the first spell that came to mind.

"Impedimenta!"

There was a muffled curse, and then Frank was free. He scrambled to his feet, waving his hand in front of him to clear the steam that still lingered in the room like some strange, magical mist. A dark shadow stumbled away from him, but he let his guard down for a moment too long, and there was an explosion of pain in his arm.

He looked down in time to see the gash through the shredded edges of his robe's sleeve, and watched as the blood strained his skin red.

His attacker's wand waved once more, something Frank just barely caught sight of out of the corner of his eye, and he jumped aside. Ignoring the stinging pain in his arm, he countered with his own stunning spell, followed quickly by a disarming spell and another impediment curse.

They were all blocked, but the figure was moving backwards, towards the door. Frank darted around the bed and swung his wand through the air in a large circle, creating a gust of wind that cleared the mist and sent his opponent slamming heavily into the wall.

In the suddenly clear air, Frank caught sight of slender fingers gripped around the wand, of the faint shape of curves beneath the figure's robes and hooded cloak.

His attacker was female.

But the shadows remained, covering part of the room in darkness, and he could not make out anything else useful.

And then came the fire.

It rushed from the witch's wand, but then took shape. A large, snarling creature advanced on him, made of scorching hot fire. A long tail unraveled, beady eyes fixed on Frank, fiery lips parted to reveal flames in the shape of teeth… a dragon. A dragon made of living fire, fire that shed sparks every time the creature moved its massive body.

"Fiendfyre," Frank breathed, awed and horrified at the same time. He had never seen it before, though he had heard countless tales of its destructive power. It was nearly impossible to control, and the witch who was now forcing the dragon forward, towards him, had to be incredibly powerful to keep such rule over the magical creation.

But he had no time to think of this. The fire-dragon pounced, and he was thrown backwards, sparks landing on his robes and setting them ablaze. The fire-dragon stood between him and the door, and there was no way out, no way to escape. On the other side of the fire, he could see the witch moving towards him, the light of the fire falling across her hooded face.

She laughed coolly.

The air was hot, burning, unbearable… Frank summoned water that did nothing against the fire, and the dragon moved closer and closer. It had not engulfed him yet, had not killed him even though it easily could. But the witch seemed to be playing with him, amusing herself with his fear.

He tried another spell, hoping to stun the witch through the fire. But the dragon opened its mouth and swallowed the spell, somehow stopping it, and the witch laughed harder.

He had to get out. But the anti-Apparation wards around the home, the ones meant to keep out reporters and looters and anyone else who might be interested in creeping into this place before the Aurors were completely finished with it were now keeping him trapped inside.

The dragon reared back and opened its mouth as though to roar. No sound issued forth, but the flames grew larger, and the creation was impossibly big, as though it somehow shouldn't even fit in this room.

The fire was contained in the dragon, and although smoke filled the air and a few pieces of furniture now showed charred edges and scorch marks, the room was not ablaze. Frank noted this even as he felt his skin burn, noted the way the sparks sizzled and went out before they hit the ground, and wondered vaguely if perhaps the witch did not want to burn down Remus' home.

Was she trying to keep it in one piece? Why?

But these were not thoughts he could waste any time on, and the question would have to remain unanswered. He had only one choice now, and he did not hesitate. Shoving the window open, he jumped through it, the cold night air striking him, leaving him breathless. The dragon burst through the window behind him, but when he hit the ground with a heavy thud, he pulled together all his strength and concentration and ran past the wards, Disapparating as soon as he could.

The last thing he heard before he disappeared completely was the witch's laughter echoing in the night air.


	8. Point of View

Chapter Eight: Point of View

With Mr. McKinnon's words of caution still echoing inside his head, James stepped through the door into the small meeting room and found Lily Evans already waiting for him at the table. The Aurors on either side of the door gave him grim looks as they withdrew, shutting him inside with a probable murderer.

Evans looked up at him, green eyes guarded. The circles underneath her eyes had grown more pronounced, dark shadows that contrasted with otherwise pale skin. Azkaban was clearly taking its toll on her, although she managed to keep her head held high as she met his accusatory gaze.

"You lied," James said bluntly, yanking out the chair across from her and sitting down.

She flinched ever so slightly at the sound of the wood scraping across the floor, but she did not take her eyes from his face as she asked, "About what?"

"Lucius Malfoy," James replied. "You told me that his hatred of you was not personal. You left out the part about your friendship with his wife, Narcissa."

Her eyes darkened and she looked away briefly, as though gathering her thoughts. Then she said in a bitter tone, "Narcissa and I were not friends. We were study partners at Hogwarts, and that is all."

"So you didn't try to get her to leave Malfoy?" James pressed, leaning forward. "You didn't try to get her to leave her family? To turn away from their beliefs?" Evans said nothing, just continued to look down at her hands folded tightly in her lap, and James added, "You didn't mock Malfoy and the Lestranges at every opportunity?"

"I didn't _mock_ them," she snapped. "I argued. I stood up for myself and my rights. I am sorry if they thought I was being disrespectful, but…" She stopped abruptly and gave a choked laugh. "No, I'm not sorry, actually," she amended her previous statement. "But what they saw as mocking, I saw as refusing to simply accept their abuse. Trust me, Mr. Potter, there is nothing I said to them that is even remotely comparable to all the things they have said to me."

James ran a hand through his hair. It was probably true, he reasoned. He knew the Blacks, and he had heard countless tales from Sirius about their attitudes regarding Muggleborns. Evans might not have liked them, but the animosity was certainly not just one-sided. They would have despised her based simply on who she was.

But it didn't change the fact that she had lied to him. Again. How many times would she refuse to tell the truth? How was he supposed to help her escape Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss if she wouldn't even be honest?

"Was Mrs. Malfoy friends with the others, too?" James asked. "With Lupin, I mean. And with the Longbottoms."

Evans glanced at him. "You've spoken to Frank?" she asked in trepidation, her hands now resting on the edge of the table. There was something uneasy in her eyes, a sort of reluctance he couldn't quite place. Was she afraid of something Frank Longbottom might say?

"I did," James answered. "Longbottom told me a bit about his wife's death and your arguments with Lupin."

Evans ran her fingers over the table, tracing lines in the smooth wood. "Yes. When Alice died, it… I think it nearly killed him. In the year that followed that, he became this… this person so bent on revenge and easing his own guilt and I think… sometimes, I think he became a person I didn't recognize anymore."

"He said you weren't very understanding," James said flatly.

Her body stiffened, fingers frozen just above the table. Then she pushed her chair back and stood up, turning away from him. He stared at her back, at her unruly red hair, and waited.

"I suppose I wasn't," she agreed after a long moment. "But for him to think that I didn't believe this was something worth fighting for…" She turned to face him, her features devoid of all expression. Again, he was caught by the lack of emotion in her eyes and the too-sallow whiteness of her skin. He had never been imprisoned in Azkaban, but he knew what it did to people.

Some part of him made a mental note of this. She had to look presentable at the trial – no matter what she said, aesthetics did matter – and it wouldn't do for Azkaban to rob her of her looks.

"You did not support Lupin's decisions, and Longbottom did," James said at last, prompting her after he realized that she had trailed off and lapsed into silence.

"Frank thought I was turning my back on everything I should believe in. As though he had any right to judge." She paused for a moment, then sighed and said, "But I am not sure you would understand either, Mr. Potter. You do not have any experience being a Mudblood in this society."

James leaned back in his chair. "I've been called a blood traitor for years," he said quietly.

She frowned, eyebrows furrowed as she gazed at him wordlessly. Then she laughed and shook her head, arms folded over her chest. Her eyes darted about for a moment, before settling on him once more, and he was struck by the oddest sensation of being weighed and measured.

He had a feeling he hadn't passed her test.

Her laughter had stopped, cut off abruptly and she yanked her chair out and sat down again.

"You don't think they look down on me, too?" James asked, a bit annoyed.

"Look down on you?" she asked in disbelief. "Do you really think that? Do you really think they _look down on you_?"

They were getting quite a ways off topic at this point, but James was too intrigued by her venom and her sharp words to make any attempts at steering the conversation back towards Lupin and Malfoy. She was looking at him with a combination of disgust and amusement in her eyes, and it was rather startling.

She drew a breath and sighed, exhaling rapidly and shaking her head.

The Lily Evans he had meant only a few days ago had been tightlipped and unemotional, her words guarded and measured. The woman sitting before him now had more energy to her, more anger and more passion. He wondered idly if she was starting to trust him more – and if that was the case, why did she continually _lie_? – or if it was merely the effects of Azkaban slowly scraping away her self-restraint.

Azkaban drove everyone insane eventually.

At length, Evans said, "You're a pureblood, Mr. Potter. And not just any pureblood. You are a _Potter_. You are wealthy, you are prestigious, and your family can trace its line back for generations."

"And they hate me for the things I've decided to do with my life," James said firmly. "Lestrange and his wife, Mrs. Malfoy, do you think they're willing to overlook my actions just because I am a pureblood?"

"But don't you see the difference?" she murmured, green eyes catching his gaze with their sudden seriousness. "Can't you understand that being hated is not the same as being looked down upon?" She tilted her chin up, her words defiant. "You are a wealthy pureblood. And they may hate you for what you've done, but they don't think you are beneath them. You are the enemy, yes. But you aren't trash. You aren't filth. You are still a pureblood, and nothing will ever change that."

"Marrying a Muggleborn might," James argued, and then stopped, surprised at himself. He had absolutely no idea why that thought had come to mind given how little time or energy he spent thinking about his marital prospects. Besides Mrs. McKinnon's insistence that he marry Marlene, of course…

He had no doubt he was an eligible bachelor, but like Sirius, he simply didn't date seriously. He had yet to find a woman who he could tolerate dating more than once, let alone consider actually marrying.

And yet here he was using marriage to a Muggleborn as his argument.

"Have you considered that?" Evans asked pointedly. "Have you dated anyone who wasn't at least a half-blood?"

He _hadn't_, but it wasn't because of prejudice.

"I don't believe in blood purity nonsense," he said defensively.

"Of course not," Evans agreed. "But in a world built around that very notion, it is a bit difficult to escape it. The families that your parents socialized with when you were growing up… I presume most of them were also purebloods? Not through any prejudice, of course, but merely because purebloods tend to all know each other. It _is_ a small magical world, after all."

"Plenty of my friends at Hogwarts were…"

She cut him off coldly, "You might have no recollection of me from Hogwarts, Mr. Potter, but I remember you. Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon. Both purebloods, aren't they? And they were your best mates, right?"

James had nothing to say in response to that. It wasn't as though he only sought out purebloods as friends, and it certainly wasn't as though he looked down on Muggleborns as being less than him. But most of his parents' friends had been purebloods, Sirius and Marlene were both purebloods, and every girl he had dated had been either a pureblood or a half-blood, mostly because it had been at his mother's urging and they had been daughters or nieces of her friends.

But both his parents were gone now and those days of incredibly awkward dinners with equally embarrassed girls were long over.

"My point, Mr. Potter, is that we are not in the same position. You might be hated, but you are _not_ viewed as less than human. And you can always change your opinions…" Here she held up a hand to forestall his immediate retort, "…regardless of the fact that you _won't_ change them, you do still have that option. You could no longer be a blood traitor if you so choose. There is nothing I can do to be anything other than a Mudblood in _their_ eyes."

James rubbed his eyes wearily. They were both silent for a few minutes, Evans apparently content with having made her point, and James not really sure what to say. There was no way to counter her argument, but he didn't like the way she had twisted his life to make him sound like some sort of bigot. Like the Lestranges or the Malfoys. He wasn't that sort of person, and if he had always taken his status as a pureblood for granted… well, it wasn't because he actually believed in any of the ridiculous notions spouted by his opponents.

His mind wandered back to Lucius Malfoy then, and he grimaced. He had yet to address that issue, or anything he had learned from Longbottom. But Evans was still staring at him with that critical look in her eyes and he felt almost embarrassed.

Aloud, he said, "Back to what I learned from Narcissa Malfoy and Frank Longbottom. Miss Evans, we _do_ need to go over this because it will be important for the trial."

"What happened with Malfoy is over. I didn't kill him and the Wizengamot agreed with me," Evans snapped. "I'm tired of having to continually say this."

"I'm tired of continually finding out things from other people because you insist on lying to me," James shot back.

Lily glared at him, not looking even the slightest bit abashed.

"Mrs. Malfoy said you hated her husband. You constantly argued with him. She said you ruined your friendship with her because of your hatred of him."

"Oh, is _that_ what Narcissa told you?" Evans said with a roll of her eyes. "Well, I suppose it would depend entirely on your point of view."

"And what is _your_ point of view?" James prompted.

Evans averted her gaze for a moment, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. When she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate, as though she was choosing them carefully.

"Narcissa and I were never really friends, but I did like her. She was smart, and she could be kind… sometimes. Like when she defended her cousin," Evans eyes darted up, "from _your_ pranks."

It took James only a moment to realize she was referring to all the times he and Sirius had pranked Regulus Black. He narrowed his eyes, thinking, and was able to pull up a few memories of a stunning blonde witch interceding and hexing Sirius mercilessly.

Evans didn't seem to notice that he was lost in his own memories, though, and she continued, "I know her sister – Bellatrix – was angry when she found out that Narcissa and I would work on potions together. I kept hoping Narcissa would turn out more like Andromeda… and after Narcissa started dating Malfoy… I wanted to help her see that this wasn't the right path, but… I don't know. I think, Mr. Potter, that I had deluded myself into believing that we were actually friends, that she cared about something more than the fact that I could help her pass her NEWTS. But we _weren't_ friends, and when Malfoy started mocking me… threatening me… she did nothing. And I still tried to get through to her. But she just wouldn't listen."

"Did you try to get her not to marry Malfoy?"

"Yes," Evans answered. "And when she was pregnant, I was worried. For her son, for the type of person he would be with Lucius Malfoy to raise him."

"And then Malfoy died."

"And I did not kill him," she said firmly.

"And then you and Lupin started dating."

She moved jerkily, pulling her arms into her chest. Chewing her bottom lip – something James thought idly was actually kind of endearing – she nodded once. "We did." Her words were breathless, little more than a whisper, and tears glimmered in her eyes.

"Did you love him?" James asked.

"Does it matter?" she demanded.

He shrugged. It didn't really matter, actually, and he had asked it more on a whim than anything else. But Longbottom had been unsure if Evans loved Lupin the way that Lupin had loved her, and some part of him couldn't help but wonder if she had been using her friend.

It was an uncharitable thought. But it was also a valid question.

"And then Alice Longbottom…"

"We're not talking about that," Lily cut in, an edge in her voice. "She's dead. I don't want to… Just leave it, Mr. Potter. It has nothing to do with this."

"But the resulting arguments between yourself and Longbottom and Lupin…?" he questioned.

She glowered, but said, "It wasn't really about Alice. Frank felt guilty, and that was part of it. And Remus wanted revenge, that was another part of it. But they also… it was about more than that. For Remus, it was about being a werewolf. It was about being trapped in a society that despised him, a society where he was viewed as worthless. He felt helpless to do anything about it, and he wanted… he wanted to fight the Dark. He wanted revenge on them for all the ways they continually hurt him, all the things they would not let him do."

"And Longbottom agreed with him about that?"

"After Alice? Yes."

"But you didn't?"

"Revenge doesn't help anyone," Lily said, a bitter smirk playing around the corners of her lips. "Although Cissy seems quite pleased about everything she's done to _me_." James kept silent, and after a moment she added, "I just wanted Remus and Frank to be safe. There were things worth fighting for, of course, and they did have to take some risks. But not these unnecessary ones. Somehow, though… they were so bent on revenge that they stopped caring about anything else. Frank felt his loss of Alice so much and yet… he just couldn't comprehend the fact that if he died, it would do the same thing to us. And Remus was the same…"

James watched as she reached up and absently played with a strand of red hair. For a brief moment she looked so tired and so vulnerable that he almost felt guilty about the news he would have to tell her next.

"Miss Evans… the trial is going to start in three days. Lestrange sent an owl to my office this morning."

She smiled again, a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Well, that's good. We wouldn't want to delay the inevitable witch hunt."

"You can't lie to me anymore," James said. "I am trying to help you. I am your only chance at avoiding Azkaban. But I need you to start telling me the truth. All of it."

She studied his face, looking for something. The room was silent, and he felt a tension in the air as he waited for her response and she continued to search his expression for answers to her own unspoken questions. He didn't know what she was looking for, and he didn't know if she found it.

Eventually, though, she said, "You might be trying to help me, Mr. Potter, but you still don't understand what it is that I want."

"What you want?" he repeated numbly.

"I don't care about Azkaban. I don't care about Lestrange. I want to know who killed Remus and why. I want to get justice for that. And you only care about freeing me and getting the best of Lestrange. You don't care about Remus. You don't care about the truth."

He hesitated, formulating his response, before saying, "You can't find out the truth if you're in Azkaban. And if you end up there, who will look for the truth for you?"

Lily held his gaze for another beat, then nodded. "Fine."

He let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. It seemed like they were finally making progress towards her actually being trustworthy, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still a lot more she wasn't telling him.

He rose to his feet, preparing to leave. He needed to think some more and then talk to Marlene about all this. And maybe Sirius.

"When Lupin owled you the day he came back," James asked, "did he say anything important? Anything at all that could be helpful."

There was a pause, just the tiniest fraction of a second, and then Lily said, "He thought he was being followed."

James looked at her sharply, startled.

"I don't know anything else," she said boldly. "He didn't tell me anything. I don't know where he was or what he was doing… I just know that when he got back, he thought he was being watched."

"Okay," James said. "Thank you. I'll see what I can find out about that." Although he really had no idea where he would even start looking.

He moved towards the door, leaving Lily still sitting at the table in the windowless room.

And as he left the room, he realized with a sudden jolt that at some point towards the end of that conversation, he had stopped thinking of her as Evans and started thinking of her as Lily.


	9. The Rising Dark

AN: To answer a question from a review, I don't know exactly how many chapters this will be, but the plan is around 20 or 25. At least that is what my outline says, and it's been accurate so far.

* * *

Chapter Nine: The Rising Dark

He had been to Azkaban too many times.

The fortress prison was old, older than most people seemed to realize, and his father had been imprisoned here over a century ago. Not, of course, that they had visited his father. At the time, there had been too many other problems to face, too many other burdens to bear. A new home, new friends… and a half-mad, perpetually scared sister.

But he had read about the place, and been horrified. And intrigued. It was an odd idea, a prison that kept its prisoners locked within their own insanity. And a terrifying one, too, because those who were finally released from the cold and unforgiving stone prison were far more dangerous, far more wild, at their time of departure than they had been upon arrival.

He had been there in the course of his years as Transfiguration Professor, though. But there had been a few students who had caused him concern, and one of them had ended up in Azkaban for a few days before he'd been able to secure the child's release. Of course, it hadn't been the boy's fault, he'd done nothing at all but be a scapegoat for a much smarter, much more ruthless student.

It had been his first visit to Azkaban, and his mind had been filled with his own fears and insecurities, and it had taken all his strength to fight off the cold that seeped into his bones as he stepped through the grim doorway into the dismal place.

Then there had been the war. It was fought mostly on the Continent, but some of those skirmishes had overflowed, trickling into England. He had locked himself in Hogwarts, refusing to face the inevitable until it could no longer be denied. He'd seen the prison of Nurmengard, and it was nothing compared to Azkaban. Inescapable, perhaps, but still different, still so much better, at least on a relative scale. No prison was ideal, but Azkaban…

There was the cold and the gray and the dismal, unavoidable despair that clung to everything like heavy smoke, like mold, like a virus.

He had been forced to accompany a prisoner there, one of Grindelwald's followers who had attempted to attack Hogwarts – and he claimed not to know the reason, but wasn't it _obvious_ what Grindelwald had wanted? – and he had taken the man to Azkaban and listened to his maddened pleas and cries for mercy as the heavy door to his cell clanged shut, trapping him forever within.

He had been to Azkaban later, too. In his years as Headmaster, when a rush of violence had gripped the wizarding community. He had seen war before, back in 1945, and some part of him had recognized those attacks for what they were, the beginning of a battle. More than one of his recent graduates had ended up imprisoned, and he had visited each other, desperate to find out how he had failed them.

It was always a hard lesson to learn, that sometimes he could not change the actions of others, not with kind words and not with bitter threats. Sometimes things were out of his control.

And he hated it.

But the last few years had brought an uneasy peace. The battle he had feared had been postponed, and the wizarding world had barely even noticed. In fact, he was almost positive that those not directly involved – as victim or perpetrator – in those attacks had missed them all together.

For all their talk of how blind Muggles were, witches and wizards were hardly any better.

And now he was back in Azkaban.

Back visiting one of the few people he had hoped would never end up in this place again.

It was easy to get in, he still held enough influence over the Ministry and obtain permission without much trouble, and the Auror who had accompanied him to this particular cell now stood back, looking supremely bored.

The witch in the cell looked up at him, green eyes widening ever so slightly as they caught sight of his features. Red hair tumbled over pale skin, a thin smile pulled at the corners of her lips, and there was nothing at all warm in her expression.

"Headmaster," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Miss Evans," he replied.

She moved closer to the bars on the door of her cell, and he looked past her, his eyes scrutinizing everything. It was exactly how he had remembered it, filled with the scent of mildew and decay and the repetitive drip of water sliding down the stone walls.

Azkaban had not changed.

"I _am_ sorry," he said gravely.

She frowned, fingers curling around the bars as she moved closer. In a low voice, she said, "It was always what he wanted, Headmaster."

"You are no longer at Hogwarts," he chided, "there is no need to call me Headmaster. Albus in fine."

She shrugged. "Albus, then," she said, sounding a little unsure about the use of his name. He smiled encouragingly, but then sighed as her own expression fell.

"I never wanted to cause a rift between you and Mr. Lupin," he said. "Our strength lies in our relationships, in that which holds all together. Our weaknesses become so much more momentous when we allow ourselves to be torn apart."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "I never wanted to fight with Remus, either. But he…" She paused, searching for the right words. "He believed in this, in what he was doing. He believed in you and everything you said we could accomplish if we worked together."

"I know," he replied heavily. He wasn't sure if there was an accusation in her words of the sting he felt was his own conscience.

She turned away from him. "Was he at least helpful to you?" she asked, a sort of pleading in her tone. He had seen that look before on the faces of the family members of people who had died during the 1945 war, a desperate need to know that at least their loved ones had accomplished something. That at least they had made a difference.

"He was." The old wizard sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his crooked nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was getting too old for this. And yet if his suspicions were correct, Remus' death meant things were going to get more complicated, not less.

Another war was starting.

"Did he say anything to you when he returned?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "You think his death was related to the mission you sent him on?" she asked, although it was really more of a statement than a question. It was clear, too, that she believed the same, and he wondered, again, if there was an accusation beneath her civil demeanor.

He didn't bother answering, there wasn't a point. She didn't want to hear his suspicions, not when they were exactly the same as hers. Not when it was so obvious that she _hadn't_ killed him, and yet she was still the one trapped behind the stone walls of this wretched prison.

"James Potter is going to be my counsel for the defense," she said after a long pause.

"He is very good at what he does," was the reply.

She laughed cynically. "Perhaps. He keeps asking me the same questions, though. He wants to know the exact details of where Remus was and what he was doing. And I can't tell him that." She sat down on the edge of the small metal cot that must have served as a bed and gazed at him thoughtfully. "But I did see Remus when he returned."

"He came to visit you?"

She nodded. "I hadn't seen him in three years, hadn't heard a _single_ word from him, and then he shows up completely unannounced, standing outside my door… He said… he said he thought he was in trouble, but he wouldn't say much beyond that. He kept looking around… he said he was being followed. I asked him why, I asked him what he had been doing, where he had been…" She stopped abruptly and chewed her lip for a moment. "He wouldn't tell me," she finished at last. "He was scared."

"What _did_ he say?" the older wizard asked, leaning forward until he was nearly pressed up against the door.

"He had found something. Something important. And before you ask, no, I don't know what it was." If she found it at all odd that _he_ was asking _her_ for information when it was _his_ mission that Remus had taken, she did not show it. She looked suddenly weary and exhausted as she sat there, staring down blankly at the floor.

There were tears in her green eyes.

"He said he was being followed and he didn't want to stay in my home for very long, he didn't want to lead them to me. I told him I'd meet up with him later, asked him where he was staying. He wrote down his address and he left and then… then when I went to see him that night…"

"He was dead," he finished for her.

She nodded again. "Yes," she whispered.

"Did you tell Mr. Potter any of this?"

She gave him a startled look, then shook her head uneasily. "I told him that Remus had sent me an owl asking me to visit him."

He didn't bother asking why she lied. He doubted she would have told him anyway.

The wind suddenly howled, loud enough to be heard through the thick stone walls. A Dementor slid closer along the floor, sucking the happiness out of the air ,and exhaling ice and chill and despair. The young witch and the old wizard both shivered, neither immune to the effects of this place.

* * *

"Oh, Merlin, mate! Will you stop moping?"

James glanced up from his desk to see Sirius standing in the doorway to the small office, arms folded over his chest, dark eyes filled with something akin to mocking laughter. It was clear he had been standing there for a while, but James had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice.

He looked down at the roll of parchment open on his desk, the one he was supposedly reading. Pushing it aside with ill-concealed frustration, he said, "What makes you think I'm moping?"

"You've been staring glumly at that parchment for the last five minutes, and I don't think you've read a single word," Sirius answered. "What's gotten into you? I was the one who had to brave the horrors of the Mafloy household on your account. Shouldn't I be the one seeing doom and despair everywhere?"

Marlene, who had been organizing files on the other side of the room, looked up cheerfully and said, "He's been like this since his meeting with Evans."

"What happened? Did she try to hex you?" Sirius asked with a roll of his eyes.

James frowned. "No," he said shortly, moodily. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, then turned a curious look to Marlene, who simply shrugged. James scowled and mussed up his hair, unsure how to explain what was bothering him.

"Hm… well, what it is?" Sirius prodded. "If she didn't hex you…"

"I think I might be a bit of an arrogant prat," James said after a moment. "Or, at least, I can see how Muggleborns might think I am."

"Oh. Okay," Sirius drawled, sarcasm laced through his words. "Well, _that_ clears it up."

"You know I don't really have any friends who aren't purebloods? I've never dated a Muggleborn. I didn't take Muggle Studies, I don't know anything at all about them. Muggles, I mean," James continued. Sirius was staring at him blankly, and Marlene had set aside her files and was giving him a critical look.

Clearly, neither understood why this bothered him.

"James, I've never taken Muggle Studies, either," Sirius pointed out at last. "Who cares?"

"Lily cares," James answered automatically.

Sirius' eyebrows rose even higher, nearly blending into his hairline. "You're calling her _Lily_ now? What happened to _probable murderer_?"

"I don't know," James defended himself. "I can't tell if she's guilty. I mean, I know the evidence doesn't look good, but I… I don't think she is guitly. I don't want her to be."

"It isn't your job to _want_," Marlene interrupted softly. "All you should care about is getting her acquitted, regardless of whether or not she's guilty."

"She thinks I should care about more than that," James protested. "She thinks I should care about who killed Remus Lupin. Why _don't_ I care about that? I mean… do I only care about something if I have to? If it is my job?"

"You and your parents let me stay with you after I ran away from home," Sirius said pointedly, speaking slowly and enunciating his words as though he wasn't sure if James would be able to understand otherwise. "You took me in even though I was a persona non grata in the pureblood community. You've opposed almost every single anti-Muggleborn, anti-part-human, anti-nonhuman legislation the Ministry has attempted to draft. The entire reason you took this case in the first place was to stop Lestrange from gaining even _more_ power and shoving his twisted ideals down everyone's throat. You don't like the Dark Arts and you don't like bigotry. If Evans thinks you're anything like my family…" He trailed off with a disgusted sneer.

"But I don't know what it is like to be a Muggleborn," James said. "I don't know what it is like to be like her. I've never even really thought about it."

"And she doesn't know what it is like to be a pureblood trying to go against the normal social mores our society believes in," Sirius snapped back. "She doesn't know what pressures you've got to deal with, she doesn't know that sometimes to do the right thing you have to turn your back on your family. She doesn't get what it's like, and it seems to me that if she thinks all purebloods are prejudiced, she's got some prejudice of her own."

"You're taking Narcissa Malfoy's side?" James demanded, incredulous as he realized just how similar Sirius' words had sounded to those he had repeated from his cousin.

"What? No! Merlin, _no_!" Sirius retorted, flushed. "But… come on, mate. Do you really think you're a bad person just because you happened to have two pureblooded parents? So you don't know what her life is like. She doesn't know what your life is like. We all only know about our own lives and our own situations and she doesn't have any right to say that you're one of _them_."

He spat out the last word, his eyes narrowed furiously. It was clear he was thinking of his own family and what it had taken for him to walk away from his brother and from all the people that he might have once cared about. It was easy to know that there was a right choice and a lot harder to actually make the right choice when it meant giving up so much.

And, of course, Sirius despised being compared to his parents or the rest of his family.

Lily's words, James mused, had clearly upset them both.

"He's right," Marlene said softly, as usual far more calm and collected than Sirius even if she was echoing the same sentiment. "Does Evans think the only way to prove that you're not some pureblood idealist is to not be friends with other purebloods? To break off your friendship with Black and stop talking to me? What kind of sense does that make?"

"You know, darling," Sirius said with a suddenly lascivious grin, "there's no need to keep calling me Black. Sirius is quite appropriate, love." And he gave the nonplussed Marlene a wink.

"Oh, you two should start going together," James muttered, dropping his head onto the desk. "Maybe then Marlene's mother will stop trying to force us both down the wedding aisle."

"My mother is always going to prefer you to Black," Marlene said frostily, giving Sirius a disdainful look.

"Oh, now that hurts," Sirius cried, clutching his chest in mock pain and stumbling about the office.

"Don't take it personally, _Sirius_," Marlene said with a light laugh, "it isn't you she doesn't like. It's the fact that you have no common sense, could hardly be considered responsible or dependable, and have yet to grow up."

James choked back a laugh at the look of outrage on Sirius' face. The laugh turned into real choking, however, as the door to his office suddenly swung open and he found himself gasping in surprise at the wizard who stood there.

Marlene rose quickly to her feet and Sirius spun around, mouth falling open.

"Headmaster," James said.

"Albus," the Headmaster corrected with a smile. "It seems I am going to be repeating myself today. You are out of Hogwarts, there is no need to call me Headmaster."

"I… oh… well, alright," James said, momentarily at a loss for words. Although he was not one of the Ministry sycophants who fawned over the Headmaster, he still did recognize the fact that the older wizard was probably the most powerful man who had ever lived. Furthermore, while he had crossed paths with the Headmaster at Ministry functions, he had never once been visited at his office by the venerable wizard.

He had no idea what to say.

"May I come in?" the Headmaster prompted.

Marlene was the first to recover her wits, something James was quite thankful for, and she stepped forward quickly, conjuring a chair with a wave of her wand. "May I take your traveling cloak?" she asked politely, hands outstretched to accept his heavy black cloak.

"Ah, thank you," Dumbledore said, shrugging off his cloak and pressing it into her arms. "I was just at Azkaban and it is so much colder there than in your charming office."

Sirius snorted at the word _charming_, but James ignored him and said instead, "Azkaban?"

"Yes. I was visiting your client."

"You know Evans?" Sirius demanded, looking surprised.

"Well, she did go to Hogwarts," Marlene murmured, shooting Sirius a slightly bemused glance. He glowered at her.

Dumbledore settled himself into the chair Marlene had conjured, and Sirius eagerly came forward as well, sitting on the edge of Marlene's desk. The witch looked so intrigued by the conversation that was about to happen that she didn't even push Sirius away, something she certainly would have done at any other point.

Dumbledore didn't seem at all surprised that Sirius knew what was going on as well, and simply pulled his chair back enough to make sure Sirius was included in the circle.

"I know Miss Evans has not been entirely truthful with you about Remus Lupin's activities as of late. Although I fear some of it may be my fault."

James leaned forward. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked.

"There's no need to call me sir, either," Dumbledore said with a smile. Then he continued seriously, "I believe you know that for the past four years, Remus has been working… freelance, I think is how Miss Evans explained it."

"Yes, that's what Lily said," James agreed. "And that's what Longbotton said, too. That Lupin was working against the Dark Arts."

"He was," Dumbledore said grimly. "But he was not working on his own. He was working for me."

"What was he doing?" Sirius asked.

Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles a bit further up on his nose and said, "I am going to have to start at the beginning, aren't I? Well, let's see…" He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking, and then he said, "Do you know anything about the Dark activity that occurred a few years ago?"

James nodded and slanted a quick look at Marlene. "Mr. McKinnon told me about it," he said. Marlene turned to him, startled, and he made a mental note to apologize for not telling her this earlier. But keeping his attention on Dumbledore, he said, "There was a rise in this activity, but most witches and wizards didn't notice. You recruited several people to fight it."

"Alastor Moody and I did," Dumbledore confirmed with a nod. "I was worried, you see. It seemed as though… someone… was recruiting followers. I was concerned that, if it wasn't stopped, these people would create a force strong enough to start a war."

"A war?" Marlene repeated. "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

Dumbledore gave her a very serious look and said, "Yes, war is always extreme. But it often does not take much to start one. This person who was doing the recruiting… well, he seemed quite powerful."

"Do you know who it was? Who was behind this?" Sirius questioned, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"Sirius, we're not going off on some crazy adventure to hunt down a Dark wizard," James said with a roll of his eyes.

"You're taking all the excitement out of life, mate," Sirius retorted.

But Dumbledore wasn't smiling. He had a far away look in his eyes, and then he said, "While the rest of the England ignored what was happening, Alastor and I tried to fight it. And we had some successes, although not many. But then, about seven years ago, everything changed. The Dark activity stopped. The recruiting… it seemed like it was all over. It seemed as though we had one."

"Why did it stop?" James asked.

"We don't know," Dumbledore said honestly, "although I have my suspicions. But the point is, many of us thought it was safe. But Alastar and I… we still had our doubts. There was nothing we could do for a while… and then, four years ago, Alice Longbottom was killed."

"Frank Longbottom said it was a Dark curse that had killed her but they never found the culprit," James murmured. "Was it related?"

"We believed so," Dumbledore answered, "although, again, it was only suspicions."

"But what does this have to do with Lupin?" Sirius demanded impatiently.

"After Alice was killed, we heard rumors of recruitment. Werewolves, goblins, giants… even centaurs, although I have no idea how any wizard at all would manage that given how much they despise us." Dumbledore paused, looking at each of the other three in turn. "Do you see the connection between these groups?"

"They're all party-humans and nonhumans," Marlene answered immediately. "Ones who are often discriminated against, deprived of rights and liberties that witches and wizards take for granted."

"Exactly," Dumbledore said. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

"I thought we weren't at Hogwarts anymore," Sirius grumbled. "Why does she get points?"

"Black, it's still your House, too," Marlene snapped.

James ignored them, and it appeared that Dumbledore had decided to do that, too, because he did not comment on their bickering. Instead, he said, "It seemed likely that whoever was recruiting them would use the simple tactic of promising these creatures the rights they have been denied for so long, and perhaps even a chance to be part of the society, to be respected and included." He stopped, his expression dark, "And maybe even revenge for all the past wrongs."

"They were recruiting an army," James breathed, aghast. "An army to attack the Ministry, the rest of the wizarding world."

"Indeed. It's why I sent Remus to make contact with the various werewolf clans in Britain. For one full year, he was working with them. He'd make contact, try to convince them that this wasn't the way, that it would not work out well for them." Dumbledore leaned forward and tapped his fingers idly on James' desk. "You understand, of course, that the Dark wizards recruiting these part-humans and nonhumans didn't actually want to offer them _rights_. It was all a ruse, it had to be. There was no way that these pureblood elitists would actually be willing to recognize… say, a werewolf… as an equal."

"And Lupin was trying to convince the werewolves of that?"

"He was, but it became dangerous. The Dark wizards attacked him once or twice, once they realized who he was. And some of the werewolves weren't pleased by his presence, either. Some of them wanted to live separately from the rest of the world, wanted to believe that their animal side was their true nature and not just a beast that broke free once per month. To them, a werewolf who lived among wizards like Remus did… well, he was the worst kind of traitor."

James clenched his hands into fists. He knew it was wrong to think of all werewolves as Dark Creatures when so many of them were decent human beings who did their best to avoid hurting others, even during those few nights when they lost control. But it was hard to separate out the good werewolf from the bad one, and every time he heard stories of people who took pleasure in their own horrific transformations and the panic and havoc they could cause… it made him sick.

But Lupin had been a good person. Better than most, it seemed, if he was so willing to risk his own life to convince others that they did not need to become monsters just because they were cursed with lycanthropy.

Lily certainly thought he was a good person, that much was clear.

James glanced over at Sirius, who was listening to all of this with a dark expression on his face. James recognized it immediately, knew it was the look he wore whenever he thought about his brother, and he wondered immediately if perhaps Regulus was somehow involved in this mess.

He certainly would not have put it past Regulus to join with a group of Dark wizards in an attempt to start a war.

Marlene spoke up softly, "James said that Lupin was gone for three years."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "The last mission I sent him on, the one that lasted all this time, was too settle down with a werewolf clan. To join in with them, to live with them… to hopefully gain their trust. I needed to know who was recruiting them, and the only way I could do that…"

"Was to have someone on the inside," Sirius finished.

Again, the Headmaster nodded.

"Headmaster… I mean, um… Albus… who did you suspect of being behind this? Who was recruiting, who was raising the army?" James questioned impatiently. He couldn't help but believe that Dumbledore knew quite a bit more than he was saying.

The ancient wizard let out a slow breath. "He is a very powerful, very dangerous man, one who has consorted with the Dark Arts so much that he has become barely recognizable as human. He calls himself Lord Voldemort."

It was at exactly that moment that the door was shoved open and Frank Longbottom entered. He paused on the threshold, eyes sweeping over the room once, before looking at James.

"I'm sorry, Potter, I didn't realize you had company."

James rose to his feet, giving Longbottom a quick once over. He looked worn and tired, and part of his body was covered in crisp white bandages wrapped over some sort of thick yellow concoction. He grimaced slightly as he placed a hand out to rest against the door, as though a phantom pain from some recent injury still lingered in his arm.

"What happened to you?" Sirius demanded before James could say anything.

"They already patched me up fairly well at St. Mungo's," Longbottom answered with a shrug that brought a momentary wince to his eyes. "And the burns will heal, too. The Healer said burns from Fiendfyre just take a while to…"

"Fiendfyre?" Marlene breathed, horrified.

"What happened?" Dumbledore cut in, his voice sharp, even as he rose and moved quickly to Longbottom's side, surveying the damage with a calculating gaze.

Longbottom looked from Dumbledore to James and then back. "I was at Remus' house, finishing up a few things for Auror Moody," he explained grimly, "and I was attacked."


	10. A Man I Used to Love

Chapter Ten: A Man I Used to Love

Alistair Bones was a decidedly odd-looking man, with a lanky form, black eyes, and dark tufts of hair that stuck out at odd angles like a messy halo. His reputation, however, was anything but angelic.

He regarded James coolly, peering at him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. His thin lips were pressed together into a straight line, and he tapped his fingers idly on the top of the wooden desk before him. The other members of the Wizengamot were silent, their gazes switching back and forth between James and Bones.

Finally, the older wizard said, "It seems to me, Mr. Potter, that this is entirely a waste of our time."

Rodolphus Lestrange, standing next to James, allowed himself a brief smile of triumph.

"A waste of time?" James repeated incredulously. He forced himself to remain calm, to keep his anger in check, but it wasn't easy. Alistair Bones was known for his pro-pureblood ideology, and while that allowed him to treat James with a modicum of respect, it did nothing to help Lily's cause.

Fortunately, Lily was not present for this meeting with the Wizengamot. In fact, she didn't even know the meeting was happening.

"The Wizengamot has more important things to do than chase down supposed clues that most likely don't even exist," Bones said severely.

"But if Remus Lupin was being followed…" James started.

"There is no evidence of that," Bones snapped. "The only person who claims this is true is Lily Evans, and she is on trial for his murder. Of course she is looking to blame someone else." Narrowing his eyes at James, he added, "She seems content to constantly misrepresent the truth, so I will not put much faith in anything she says now."

"And the person who attacked Frank Longbottom? The Fiendfyre that destroyed Mr. Lupin's home?"

"If you can call that hovel a home," one of the witches sitting behind Bones muttered under her breath. Her blue eyes fixed thoughtfully on James for a moment, then contempt curled her lips.

The others around her smirked in agreement.

"Miss Evans was in Azkaban when that happened. It could not have been her," James continued. "I'm not asking for the Wizengamot to drop the charges against her. I am not asking any of you to investigate. I will do the investigation myself, with the help of Auror Longbottom. I merely want to delay the trial a few days so that this possibility can be properly explored."

"This possibility is an attempt on the part of the defendant and her counsel to waste our time," Lestrange spoke up. He gave James a derisive look and added, "Potter has failed to provide any evidence of anything. All he has are tricks with which he hopes to deceive this illustrious council."

"I agree," Bones said, nodding firmly. He was presiding over this hearing and Lily's trial, and it was clear that he had already made up his mind.

But as James looked around at the rest of the Wizengamot members, he noticed with some interest that not all of them appeared to agree with Bones. Nobody was speaking up against him, but a few people shifted uneasily in their seats.

"But surely a few days delay would not be too much to ask to ensure that justice is properly pursued."

Bones' glare darkened and he leaned forward. His words dripping with venom, he asked, "Do you presume to tell us how to run this court?"

Lestrange snickered under his breath.

"No. No, of course not. I am merely expressing my…" Here James paused, searching about for the right words. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, but he refused to look away from Bones' contemptuous gaze. "I am expressing my confidence in your desire for justice."

Bones smiled slightly, a cold, unfeeling smile that sent shivers down James' spine. "Of course." He picked up a quill that was lying before him and fingered it slowly, rolling the feathers between his thumb and forefinger. Contemplating the quill, he said, "It is my desire for justice that makes me unwilling to waste this court's time on such pointless questions."

"Fiendfyre is hardly pointless," James spat, his anger finally breaking through. The fact that he'd managed to keep his temper for so long was actually rather remarkable, but he was now past any abilities for self-control. Marlene had warned him about this before he'd requested the hearing with the Wizengamot, and he'd barely listened to her.

Perhaps he should have spent more time preparing himself.

"Mr. Potter," Bones said severely, "you are not an Auror…"

"And you're not either!" James hissed.

There was a dead silence in the room.

Common sense and rational should have told James to stop speaking now, before he did more damage, but he paid no attention to that part of his brain. The anger hummed in his mind, blood rushing in his ears, and he could barely think beyond his own emotions.

"How can you believe that we should not investigate further? You let your own prejudice blind you to the obvious fact that someone tried to kill Longbottom! And that someone was _not_ Lily Evans!"

"I assure you that I am blind to nothing!" Bones snarled, rising to his feet. Situated on the raised dais, he towered over James. "Do not presume to accuse me of not caring about justice _or_ Longbottom."

"And how are you showing your concern?" James scoffed. "By ignoring the attack on an Auror and refusing to investigate the claims of a defendant? All to further your own twisted pureblood aims!"

"That is enough!" Bones snarled. "This hearing is over."

"Merlin, you're not even going to vote?" James sneered. "Nobody else on the Wizengamot gets any say in this decision?"

There was some muttering in response to that, and Bones glanced around. James calmed down enough to look around as well, and he saw the look of resentment on the faces of many of the Wizengamot members. Clearly, they agreed with him that this wasn't entirely Alistair Bones decision.

However, one glare from the man in question, and the muttering died down.

The hearing ended shortly after that, and James stormed out of the room, furious. Marlene was standing in the chilly stone corridor, waiting for him, and she took one look at his face and said nothing, whatever questions she wanted to ask dying on her lips. James stalked past her, and she walked quickly, matching his angry stride.

Neither looked back as the Wizengamot filed out of the room after them. But they heard the noise of the door opening and footsteps in the hallway, and then the rise and fall of Lestrange's triumphant drawl.

James' quickened his steps. They reached the bank of elevators at the end and entered immediately, a feeling of relief washing over him as the doors closed before anyone else reached them.

In the privacy of the elevator, Marlene glanced at him and said softly, "It didn't go well."

It wasn't a question, but James answered anyway, "No, it didn't. Alistair Bones had already made up his mind before we got there, and no one else in the Wizengamot would contradict him."

Marlene nodded slowly, then glanced up at the few memos that zoomed around in the air above them like enchanted paper planes. "He's friends with the Lestranges, James. He was never going to go against them."

* * *

_She opens the door and he's standing there, before her very eyes, and she doesn't know what to believe. He can't be here, he truly can't, because she hasn't seen him in three years and it just doesn't make sense. But he _is_ there, and he's gazing at her with a hunger and a longing that reminds her of their days at Hogwarts and afterwards, when she thought she could love him._

"_Lily…"_

_There is something wrong, something off about the entire situation, and his eyes keep darting back and forth. He is afraid, she realizes, and he can't seem to stand still. He shifts his weight back and forth nervously, and she watches him, her mouth hanging open._

"_Lily," he says again._

"_Remus," she answers._

"_I… can I come in?"_

_She steps back quickly, allowing him to slip past her. He is thin and gaunt and his expression is shadowed and haunted. What things has he seen lately? What truths have stolen all the light from his eyes?_

_She feels numb. She doesn't even understand how he can be here, standing in front of her. Three years. Three _years_. It doesn't make any sense. And yet he _is_ here, staring at her, his gaze filled with emotion._

_He looks away, towards the window. She sees the fear again, and this time it sends a chill down her spine._

"_Remus, what's going on?" she asks, forcing out the words. She needs answers. After all this time, how can he walk back into her life? She knows whatever task Dumbledore sent him on three years ago was the final, irrevocable break in their relationship, so why does it feel like he belongs here?_

"_I can't stay long, Lils," he says. The nickname falls from his lips just like it always has, and she stiffens and wants to cry. He's still not looking at her, but instead staring keenly at the window, and he says, "I think they're watching me. I don't want to lead them here, I don't want…"_

_He stops, trails off._

_She reaches for him, her hand hovering in midair only a few centimeters from his arm. He looks down at her fingers, and suddenly she drops them and steps back, away from him._

"_Who is following you?" she asks, and some part of her wonders if she's just speaking to fill the awkward silence._

_He shakes his head, doesn't answer._

"_Remus," she says, more urgency, more anger, in her voice. "Remus, talk to me. Tell me what's going on."_

"_I found something," he says. "But they want it back. I need to tell Dumbledore, I need to…" Again, he stops, eyes darting away. This time, they move to the door. He stares at it for a long moment, then shakes his head. "I can't… If they're following me, I can't stay. I can't lead them here, Lily. I can't lead them to you."_

"_Who are they?" she repeats, even though she thinks she knows the answer._

_He pulls out a scrap of parchment with an address scrawled on it. "Please. I'm staying at this flat. Please… come over tonight. I can tell you then…"_

"_Tell me now," she answers, and it is more of an order than a request._

"_I… no. Tonight. Please." He's begging now, and she's worried and scared, because this isn't like him. This isn't right. The Remus she remembers does not plead. Three years ago, he stormed away from her, out of her life, and didn't look back. Three years ago, he put his desires and his needs and his sense of right and wrong above her, and he argued with her using a self-righteousness beyond anything she had ever seen._

_So who is this person standing before her now? What happened to change him so much?_

"_Remus. Remus, stay," she whispers. "I'll put on some water for tea." And she draws her wand and moves away from him, towards the kitchen. And he stands there and watches her, not arguing. She takes that for assent, and later wishes that she didn't, because when she emerges from the kitchen once more, tea kettle in hand, Remus is gone._

_And the scrap of parchment with the address remains, placed carefully on the table by the door._

* * *

She paused in the doorway of the room, eyes darting from the Aurors on either side of her to James' frustrated expression. Something in his gaze must have worried her, because she entered with a slight trepidation in her step. The Aurors withdrew quickly, as they always did, leaving the defendant and her counsel alone.

James looked down at the table for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

Lily pulled out the chair and slipped into it, one hand reaching up and absently running through her hair. "What's wrong?" she asked, and James thought idly that it was the first time she had started the conversation. Was she warming up to him as much as he was to her? Or had she simply become impatient?

"I asked the Wizengamot to delay the start of the trial," James explained wearily. "There was some new evidence I wanted to investigate."

Lily stared at him, looking torn. It was clear that she wanted to know anything she could about this new evidence, and also clear that she wanted to know what the Wizengamot had decided. The answer to one – or both – of those questions was troubling James, she could easily see that much.

"What is this evidence? Does it have to do with Remus? With why he was killed?" she asked finally.

James frowned, contemplating her. She was gazing at him with an open, earnest expression. One that appeared a lot more honest and upfront than any she had used in the past. He could only assume that she was beginning to trust him more, although, again, he didn't know why. After all, their last meeting had been, at best, only barely civil and she had spent much of the time explaining how he had no understanding of what her life was like.

Aloud, he said, "Frank Longbottom was attacked when he went back to Remus' place to finish up some of his Auror duties. Someone was there… maybe looking for something."

"Looking for something?" Lily repeated, leaning forward with interest. "What?"

James pressed his lips together. "I think you know more about that than I do," he answered a bit stiffly.

She eyed him for a moment, but comprehension dawned quickly. "The Headmaster visited you," she said flatly.

It was not a question, but James answered anyway. "Yes, he did. He told me everything you had told him, and he told me all he could about what Mr. Lupin had been doing for the past few years." James knew his voice was a bit harsher than necessary, that there was a thinly veiled accusation in his words. But she was his client and he should have heard all of this from her, and not from Dumbledore.

Why couldn't she just trust him?

Lily blinked a few times and looked away.

In a slightly softer tone, James continued, "Whatever it was Lupin found while on his mission from Dumbledore, someone was looking for it."

"Is it what got him killed?" Lily asked in a whisper.

"Maybe," James replied. Then he sighed, and changed his answer. "Probably." He didn't know why some part of him suddenly wanted to protect Lily from the truth of all this. But it made him uneasy to sit here in this too-brightly lit room and so bluntly discuss the reason for her friend's murder.

"Did they find it?" Lily asked warily. "And… is Frank okay? I mean, whoever attacked him… was he hurt?"

"I don't know if they found what they were looking for," James replied. "As for Longbottom, the woman… at least, he thinks it was a woman… She was wearing a hooded cloak, so he didn't see her features, but… she attacked him with Fiendfyre."

Lily's eyes went wide. "Is he alright?" she demanded again, anxiously leaning forward.

"He escaped relatively unscathed," James assured her, and she let out a breath of relief. "But the woman was looking for this missing object when he arrived. Whatever Lupin found… it's still out there. Somewhere."

Lily tapped her fingers idly against the wood of the table, lost in thought. Finally, she asked, "A woman?"

James nodded slowly.

"And she used Fiendfyre?"

Again, James nodded. He didn't like the look in Lily's eyes. It was an odd mix of revulsion and triumph, as though she had figured out the answer to something and didn't like it. He opened his mouth to ask, but she had started speaking again.

"And the Wizengamot? What did they say when you told them this? What did they decide?"

"I told them only that Mr. Lupin thought he was being followed," James answered, "and about the attack on Longbottom. Dumbledore requested that I keep the rest of it – the exact details of Lupin's mission and whatever it was that he found – a secret."

It did not take Lily any time at all to figure out the implications of that statement. "Dumbledore doesn't think this is over."

James didn't answer. He had no doubt that Lily was a lot more aware of the details of this so-called Lord Voldemort given her friendship with Lupin and the two Longbottoms. But how much did she know? And her statement, her comment that this wasn't over… was that in reference only to Remus' death or to the broader possibility of the rise of this Dark wizard?

Lily, though, didn't seem to notice his silence. She was too deeply lost in her own thoughts.

Finally, James said, "The Wizengamot refused to delay the trial. Alistair Bones is in charge… and I don't think he cares for you much."

"He was a friend of Bellatrix Lestrange's in school," Lily said numbly. She seemed to be considering something for a long moment, and then she looked up and said quietly, "Whatever happens at the end of the trial, will you… will you please look into this for me? If I can't? I still want – _need_ – justice for him."

"Did you love him?" James asked, and then immediately cursed inwardly. What was he thinking, asking a client a personal question like that? Particularly a client who didn't seem to trust or like him very much?

But to his surprise, Lily answered the question. "I did. I used to love him very much. But three years is a long time and… It seemed to me, Mr. Potter, that Remus stopped being the Remus I knew and loved after Alice died."

"The desire for revenge can change a person," James said quietly.

"I know," Lily agreed. "But it was more than that. The missions he went on, the people and deeds he was confronted with… I can't imagine what it was like for him. It couldn't have been easy, constantly facing the discrimination of witches and wizards for being a werewolf, and the discrimination of werewolves for living among witches and wizards. And all the dangers of the mission. I am not sure that I was as understanding of the trials he faced and the changes he underwent as I should have been."

James could think of absolutely nothing to say in response to that, so he simply sat there, silent, waiting for her to either continue speaking or clearly indicate that she was finished with the subject.

"He was different. After that first year… He didn't see what it was doing to him. He didn't see what Dumbledore's missions were doing to him. I loved him and he changed and couldn't even _see_ it. But maybe… I didn't love him the way he loved me. Maybe if I had loved him more, I would have been okay with him changing. Maybe if I had been _in love_ with him… I don't know."

She gave a watery smile and shook her head a little, as though shaking herself out of a reverie. She looked embarrassed, and only met James' eyes for a moment before letting her gaze drop to the ground. James wasn't really sure why she was suddenly telling him all this after having withheld information or lied at every other one of their meetings, and it appeared that she was a little surprised by the sudden honesty, too.

He hesitated, wondering if he should push his luck now. But the curiosity in him refused to let go, and finally he found himself leaning forward and asking quietly, "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

She looked at him sharply, one eyebrow raised. "My love for Remus?" she asked incredulously.

James flushed. "No. I meant… everything else. Lupin's missions for Dumbledore, that he found something before he came back. That he actually came to your home instead of sending you an owl? And why did you lie about your friendship with Narcissa Mafloy?"

She shrugged and did not answer.

"It makes a difference, Miss Evans. Can't you tell that I'm on your side?"

"Are you?" she asked skeptically.

James frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "_Yes_," he snapped, annoyed. How could she question him? Hadn't he told her, over and over, that he only wanted to help her? That he was the one trying to keep her out of Azkaban while everyone else wanted to make sure she ended up there?

She pursed her lips, green eyes flashing. "And what is it you are trying to do for me?" she asked.

James blinked. "I'm trying to keep you out of Azkaban," he answered fiercely.

In a tone just as fierce, she replied, "But that _isn't_ what I want!" She pushed her chair back and looked away from him. "You still don't understand, Mr. Potter, what it is that matters to me."

"I told you that you can't pursue justice for Lupin unless…"

"I am out of Azkaban," Lily finished for him. "I know." She slanted a look at him, then let out a long breath, "And do you really think I can avoid Azkaban? I got lucky with Malfoy. Lestrange isn't going to let me go this time."

James opened his mouth to argue, but found he didn't know what to say. Lily's earlier accusation that, as part of the privileged wealthy pureblood elite, he really could not comprehend the realities of her life, came back to him.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. He saw Lily's lips quirk upwards at the way his hair stuck out at odd ends, and he tried to flatten it.

It didn't work.

"So you've pretty much assumed that I have been wasting my time all along?" he asked.

"Haven't you?" she replied.

Again, the silence. It was getting to be a fairly common occurrence in this meeting. He didn't know what to say to her, and it was clear that she didn't know what to say to him.

"It might have been less of a waste of time if you hadn't lied to me in the beginning," he muttered at last.

"How was I suppose to know that you would be different from everybody else?" Lily countered.

He stared at her. "Everybody else?"

"I haven't spoken to Frank in years. Remus and Alice are dead. I don't have friends, Mr. Potter, just enemies. And then you come here with your insistence on helping me. But your goal was so clearly to stop Lestrange, to best him somehow. You were not interested in helping me, not really. And you certainly weren't interested in helping Remus."

"And you care more about Remus than you care about yourself?" James asked. Lily looked at him, her eyes clearly indicating her disbelief that he could even be asking her that. He felt almost guilty to be implying that she should be concerned about her own future. But… "Miss Evans, Lupin is dead. There is only so much you can do for him now. But you're still alive. You need to be thinking about that."

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Have you ever lost anyone?"

He bristled. "Both my parents are dead. Dragon pox."

Her expression softened. "I'm sorry." She chewed her lip for a moment, then said, "If they had been killed, wouldn't you want to know why? Wouldn't you want justice? Even if it put your own life, your own future, at risk?"

He thought of his parents, old and warm and always doting on him, and found he did not need to imagine much to figure out what his response to their murders would have been. An anger welled up in him, filling his chest and spreading into his blood. It gripped him tightly, and for a moment, he felt pure fury.

It must have shown on his face, because Lily gave him a pointed look. "I'm not throwing away my future on a whim, Mr. Potter. I'm focusing on Remus because I loved him. And because I am honest enough to know that, even if you do somehow manage to keep me out of Azkaban, I still do not have much of a future. Lestrange will see to that, and Narcissa, too."

James gripped his hands into fists under the table. When did the society become so twisted that someone could be convinced she would be convicted before the trial ever began?

Or had it always been like that, and he just didn't know because he spent all his time with the elite, away from the day to day discrimination faced by Muggleborns and part-humans?

He rose to his feet. "Marlene picked up some robes again. I'll make sure they get delivered to you. Probably the next time I see you will be at the trial."

Lily rose as well. "You don't want to meet to discuss your plan for the trial?" she asked in surprise.

"The prosecution will present their case first," James answered. "I have a few ideas for who I want to testify on your behalf, but I want to see what Lestrange says and does before I decide anything for certain."

"Alright," she agreed.

He paused at the door, his hand resting on the handle. "Is there anything else I should know?"

She shook her head. "I don't have anything else to tell you, Mr. Potter. I think we've covered everything."

He pulled open the door. The Aurors outside instantly came to attention, tensing with their wands out, their eyes on Lily. She was still standing by the table, red hair falling over her thin shoulders and tattered robes, a very weary expression on her features. She looked small and tired and resigned to the inevitable future, and he wished there was something he could say to offer her comfort.

But he could not promise to save her from Azkaban.

So, instead, he said, "Whatever happens, I promise I will keep looking into this. I'll try to get justice for him, Miss Evans, even if you can't."

She started, and then smiled faintly. "I… thank you, Mr. Potter. Thank you."


	11. The Search

Chapter Eleven: The Search

It was with both trepidation and excitement that James found himself following Longbottom into the small set of dingy rooms that Lupin had briefly called home. He wasn't really sure why he was doing this, except that he had promised Lily he would do everything he could to help her get justice for her friend. And it had been that thought that had led him to call Longbottom and request access to this place with one goal in mind.

He had to find whatever it was that everyone else was searching for. This object – whatever it could be – that Lupin had found during his mission, that he had apparently stolen… it _meant_ something. He was sure of that.

The walls were charred black, and the air still reeked of smoke even though the fire had long since disappeared. James nearly choked on it when they first stepped through the doorway, and even once he regained his ability to breathe, his eyes still watered.

Longbottom led him quickly to Lupin's bedroom. He had not been here before, but he had seen a few photographs of it in the newspaper. And although what he had seen in the newspaper had been neither organized nor particularly fancy, the destruction all around him was unexpected.

He looked at Longbottom. The Auror was gaping at the room, surprise written all over his features.

"I take it this is something new?" James asked quietly, his mind already rushing forward to figure out what the various implications of this could possibly be.

Longbottom nodded once.

The place had been ransacked. Some of the furniture had been charred by fire, no doubt causalities of the attack on Longbottom. But the rest of it…

The cabinet was on its side, the door wrenched completely free of its hinges. It was partially burnt, and the charred remains were thrown to the other side of the room. The bed was torn apart, the lumpy mattress lying half on the floor, the ragged sheets piled on the ground, partially covering the dried bloodstains that had not yet been cleaned. A few floorboards had been ripped loose from the ground and tossed carelessly aside. One of the walls had a large hole in it, something that looked to James to be the effects of a particularly powerful Reductor curse.

Someone had been looking for something.

"She must not have left," James said. "After she attacked you, the witch… she must have stayed and… and looked around…"

"But what was she looking for?" Longbottom asked. James had only partially filled him in on the details of this particular problem. He'd been forced to tell Longbottom something, otherwise he would not have been able to convince the Auror to grant him access to the crime scene. But for some reason, he hadn't wanted to tell Longbottom everything. He didn't know why he hesitated, but something about the Auror bothered him.

"We don't know," James said finally. "Lupin didn't tell anyone what it was he had found."

Longbottom accepted this in silence. He began picking his way through the debris scattered about the floor of the room – broken shards of glass from the mirror and torn strips of cloth from the sheets, all mixed together with fragments of wood and charcoal – and scanned everything with a quick, practiced look.

James watched the Auror for a long moment. It was clear that Longbottom was investigating something, and James had no idea what it was. But the other wizard was a trained Auror, so he probably had quite a few talents that James knew nothing about.

Finally, Longbottom paused and pointed to the cabinet. "That was the first place they looked."

James blinked. "How can you tell?"

He gestured to the ground. "Footprints. You see them?"

James squinted. There were several sets of tracks in the dust that were almost completely obscured by the destruction. The most recent, a faintly fresher set outlined in charcoal from the fire, were smaller than his own, small enough to belong to a woman.

"They start at the door and then cross to the cabinet," Longbottom continued. He pulled out his wand and waved it once, murmuring a spell underneath his breath. The footprints in question instantly lit up, outlined in red light. Sure enough, the trail led directly from the door to the cabinet.

Longbottom waved his wand again, and another line of footprints were outlined in red. These led from the cabinet to the window. "I interrupted them, and they slipped out the window. While I was in the room, they came around and entered and attacked me."

"Okay," James agreed. "Then what?"

"The fire," Longbottom said. "We fought, that led to some of the destruction. I remember using some pretty powerful spells." He glanced thoughtfully at the hole in the wall. "That could have been caused by fighting."

"But after you left?" James prompted. "After you escaped?"

Longbottom sighed. "They went back to the cabinet. That must have been when they pulled the door off all the way, because it was still partially attached when I was here last." He pointed his wand at the ground, lighting up another set of footprints. "Then to the bed. The mattress was pulled off, and so were the sheets. Then…" He paused, squinting. "I'm not sure why, but it looks like the sheets were torn. Ripped."

James considered this for a moment. Tearing sheets would do no good if someone was looking for something. What could be hidden in such a thin piece of material?

But it could have been an act of rage, as though the person had not found what they were looking for and was furious about it. Or was that just wishful thinking? Was James just looking for that to be the answer because he didn't want to be too late? He didn't want the other side – whoever they might be – to have found the object first.

Longbottom stared hard at James. "It would help if I knew anything more about what they were looking for," he said bluntly. There was something in his tone that set James on edge, as though the Auror was accusing him of lying or withholding information. He could not explain the unease, but he was still certain that Longbottom knew something important, either about Lupin or Lily. Or Lestrange.

Although he had no idea what that something could be.

"I really don't have anything else to tell you," he said firmly. And he _wasn't_ lying about that, he didn't have any other details about this supposedly important object.

Longbottom didn't press the issue. Instead, he said, "After the bed, the floorboards were torn up." Another set of footprints lit up, and James followed them as they wound from the bed to the holes in the floor. "And then the mirror was smashed," Longbottom added, "with some kind of spell. Not sure what, though."

"Smashing the mirror and tearing apart the sheets wouldn't help anyone locate this… thing," James said.

"No, they wouldn't," Longbottom agreed. He didn't say anything else.

They were silent for a while, and James continued to look around the room and trying desperately to think. Had they found what they were looking for?

And _what_ were they looking for?

He thought of Lily. He had promised her he would get justice for Lupin, and at the time it had seemed like such an important promise to make. And maybe it was still important now, but he couldn't quite figure out how he was going to do it. Still... she had stared at him with actual warmth in his eyes, and she had smiled and thanked him…

He wasn't ready to fail.

But what was he supposed to do now?

He remembered, also, the way she had looked at him, sad and lonely and resigned, when she informed him that she did not have friends, only enemies. That she had not spoken to Longbottom in years…

He glanced at the Auror.

"Do you think Lily killed Lupin?"

Longbottom started, and turned wide eyes to James. He regained his composure fairly quickly, however, and said, "It is hard to imagine that she would. I know she loved him. But… well, I don't know. The evidence against her is rather strong."

"Evidence Lestrange will no doubt embellish," James muttered.

Longbottom's lip curled into a sneer as his fingers tightened into fists. "Yes," he said. The look of disgust on his features was so intense that it took James by surprise. But then it was gone, quickly hidden beneath an emotionless façade, and James wondered vaguely if he had imagined the entire thing.

But no… he had seen real hatred in Longbottom's eyes.

Clearly, the Auror did not think much of Rodolphus Lestrange.

"The first time we spoke, you said that you had not spoken to Lily in three years. That you did not return her letter after she wrote to you informing you of Lupin's departure. And that you did not speak to Lupin, either."

Longbottom gave him a scrutinizing look. "That's right," he agreed slowly. "And… well… _nobody_ spoke to Remus. We didn't know where he was. But what does my relationship with Lily have to do with anything?" And this time, there was a definite accusation in his voice. This time, he was clearly angry at James for bringing up this particular subject.

"I'm just trying to understand a bit more about the relationship between Lily and Lupin. I thought perhaps knowing more about your relationship with both of them could help…"

"Do _you_ think Lily killed Remus?" Longbottom interrupted sharply.

"No," James answered automatically, not even pausing to think. He couldn't think that, not after her impassioned plea to find out the truth, to get justice for her friend. It had been so clear how much she had cared about him, how much his death had hurt her… no, he could not believe that she had killed Remus Lupin.

He didn't know how anyone who listened to her could believe that.

Longbottom turned away. "I've already told you everything I could about their relationship. I'm not sure what else to say."

"What about Malfoy?" James asked. It had been the one subject that Longbottom had refused to talk about in their first meeting. But the Auror had implied that a lot of the fallout between himself and Lily had revolved around that trial… Why? What had happened then?

"What about him?" Longbottom snapped, suddenly irritable.

James knew this was sensitive ground. Still, he had to ask, "Do you think she killed him?"

"Everyone does," Longbottom answered simply. "Ask anyone, Mr. Potter, and if they know anything at all about that trial, if they remembered Malfoy's death, they will tell you that she killed him."

"I'm not asking about everyone," James replied. "I'm asking about you."

Longbottom gave a thin-lipped smile. "I'm one person. What difference does my opinion make? I can't outweigh the rest of the world."

"No, but it seems to me like you could stand by her more," James answered evenly. "She might have appreciated that."

He knew he really had no right to lecture Longbottom on friendship, but he could not help the flicker of anger in his chest. Why had the Auror allowed public opinion to shape his friendship? James couldn't imagine Sirius or Marlene allowing someone else's ideas to turn them against their friends. Sirius in particular – though he was rash, reckless, and often immature – would die before he permitted anyone to ruin their friendship.

Longbottom sighed. "It was seven years ago, and it is not relevant to this trial. Let's just focus on trying to figure out why Remus was killed."

James shrugged and acquiesced, albeit a bit reluctantly.

* * *

"So… we don't know if this… this object… was found?" Marlene asked, chewing her lower lip, her brows furrowed in concentration.

James slumped against the wooden desk chair and shrugged. "We don't really know much of anything," he admitted reluctantly. He had not been particularly pleased with the results of the day, but he could not deny that Auror Longbottom had done everything possible to determine the result of the search at Lupin's home. But without knowing who it was that had done the searching of what exactly they were looking for…

He had come back to his office to find Sirius waiting for him, eager to hear the news. The other wizard was clearly spoiling for some sort of adventure, and James' client was certainly providing intrigue and mystery. But whether or not this would turn into anything other than a wild goose chase was still anyone's guess.

Sirius was leaning against the wall. He'd been pacing during James' recounting of the tale, and now was apparently trying to search through the story for clues. But James had already been over it in his head many times – not to mention the fact that he had actually been in the ransacked house – and he had no answers.

Sirius wouldn't find any, either.

"But if it wasn't at Lupin's house," Sirius said finally, "where would it be? It _has_ to be there. He's just hidden it really well."

"Or it was found," Marlene pointed out. She looked between the two wizards and elaborated, "Whoever was searching for it might have found it early on and then destroyed the bedroom to make it look like they hadn't found it. Or… or something like that."

"If it was easy to find, the Aurors would have found it the first time they were at the place," Sirius argued. "When they were moving Lupin's body out and looking for clues…"

"But how hard would they really have looked?" Marlene argued. "Evans was standing over Lupin's body, covered in his blood. They must have already assumed she was guilty, so why would they look for more evidence beyond what was absolutely necessary to make the case?"

"Because it was Moody leading the team," James answered. "And he doesn't do things halfway."

There was a silence, and neither Sirius nor Marlene could argue with that comment. If this object was easy to find, Moody would have found it.

James rubbed his eyes. The other possibility was that Lily had found it when she discovered Lupin's body. Would she have hidden it somewhere? But… that didn't make sense. The Aurors had said she was practically incoherent when they found her, and so she would definitely not have been thinking clearly enough to locate this object and hide it. And even if she had, why would she then come back to the room and stand over Lupin's body? Why wouldn't she have left?

Besides, he was fairly certain she had been entirely honest when she said she had no idea what it was Lupin had found. She'd lied in the past, but it seemed like she was telling him the truth now. She didn't know why he had been killed and she didn't know what it was he had stolen, so she couldn't have been the one to move it.

And the witch who had attacked Longbottom had obviously believed that it was still hidden in Lupin's home.

Which meant that it was either currently in the hands of the enemy – this Voldemort, possibly – or it had been hidden far too well for the unknown witch to find.

They were back where they had started, with absolutely nothing.

"The trial starts tomorrow," Sirius said after a long pause. "Are you ready? Lestrange will be out for blood."

"Merlin, mate, are you _trying_ to make me worried?" James demanded.

Sirius gave him a wolfish grin in reply.

James rolled his eyes and looked over at Marlene. "Did you get the robes for Lily?"

"Yes," Marlene answered, "and I'll make sure they get delivered to her before the trial. I just hope she's smart enough to realize she needs to wear them."

James opened his mouth to defend Lily, and then stopped. Marlene had a point, everything her knew about his client indicated that she wouldn't care about this trial, or about how others perceived her, enough to make any great efforts. But she had not argued with him when he had told her that Marlene had picked out clothing for her, so that was a good sign.

"Did you know that in the Muggle court system each side has to share information?" James said after a moment.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"It's called… disclosure. Or discourse. Or discovery. I don't know, something like that," James explained, waiving one hand in a casual manner. "Each side can request documents and written answers to certain questions before the trial. I think you might even have to disclose who your witnesses are."

"But… but then you know everything ahead of time," Sirius protested, shaking his head as though it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Maybe it is supposed to make things more equal," Marlene said thoughtfully. "Or to make sure that each side can prepare for the trial properly. Or to cut back on wasted time at the trial by getting some information ahead of time." She frowned thoughtfully at James. "It is an interesting idea. It would help us if we knew who Lestrange was going to call for a witness."

"We can guess," James answered. "One of the Aurors who dealt with Lupin's body, maybe someone who can speak about Lily's relationship with Lupin…"

"But I don't get it," Sirius protested, still clearly thinking about the Muggle courts. "What sorts of questions can they ask in this… whatever it is called?"

James shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I think they can ask for or about anything that is relevant to the case. Anything that might be evidence."

"_Anything_?"

"Well… maybe not _anything_," James answered, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember what little he knew of Muggles. He had never been particularly interested in Muggle systems, not like all the people who took Muggle Studies at Howarts. But after becoming a barrister, he had found himself slightly more interested in how the nonmagical world dealt with crime.

"There have to be some things that are protected," Marlene agreed.

"I think there is solicitor-client privilege," James said slowly. "Solicitors don't have to reveal things that their clients said to them. And the same might be true for doctors. You know, like Muggle healers. They don't have to reveal what patients told them. And maybe spouses don't have to…" He trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "I don't remember all the cases. But there are some things that can stay secret."

"But everything else… people know it ahead of time?" Sirius demanded. "_Weird_."

"They're Muggles," Marlene said. "They don't have magic. Maybe they just need extra time to figure things out?"

"But we don't _use_ magic in the courtroom," Sirius protested. "During the trial, we're practically _like_ Muggles. Besides, if you know what the other side knows, how can you beat them at the trial? They're ready for you, they know everything you'll do. You don't have the element of surprise."

"Maybe they don't care about winning," Marlene offer, although it sounded like a strange, and definitely faulty, suggestion almost as soon as the words had left her mouth.

"Of course they care about winning," Sirius scoffed, disregarding her comment with a wave of his hand. "How can they not? What matters more than winning?"

James considered this, and then found himself wondering what Lily would think of the conversation. How would she explain the differences between the two methods? Was she able to comprehend why Muggles would have built their justice system like this? It seemed so strange, like a complete waste of time and effort when everything would come out at the trial anyway…

But would she think that it was witches and wizards that had the wrong idea?

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. He had to admit that, at least in this one instance, he liked the Muggle way. Lestrange wasn't going to play by the rules, and he didn't like not knowing what the other wizard had planned.

* * *

"The war is starting, Albus."

Albus Dumbledore glanced up from his seat behind his desk at the man who had entered. He knew the Auror had been coming to meet him, the castle's wards had alerted him as soon as the man had stepped through the gates. And he had known all along that this meeting would come, and it would be time to make a decision.

But the heaviness of that decision weighed down on him.

Alastor Moody, however, did not seem to care about that heaviness. He was a man of action, and he knew that the time had come for that action. Lupin's death had indicated that, but even more disturbing was the news of _why_ he had been murdered.

This object…

It worried them both. Something important enough to kill over, and yet neither knew what or where it was.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, glancing once around the circular room that had been his office for years. He had done his best to protect the students of this school from the evil that existed in the outside world, but now that a war was coming, he had to turn his attention away from focusing only on those who lived within these walls.

"We can't trust the Ministry," Dumbledore said gravely. "Not as long as Lestrange continues to wield so much influence."

Moody gave a curt nod of agreement. "It is time to reassemble the Order of the Phoenix," he said.

Dumbledore sighed and removed his half-moon spectacles. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to think about all of the brave men and women – like Remus Lupin – who would be risking and possibly sacrificing their lives to fight a war against an evil he had created.

Well… no. He had not created Lord Voldemort. But he had not been able to stop him, either, back when he was younger and could have been more easily defeated, and so the old Headmaster found it difficult to let go of some of the responsibility.

Who knew if their enemy was even human anymore?

"Are you going to invite Potter?" Moody asked.

"Not yet," Dumbledore answered. "I want to see what he does now. I want to see if he…" He paused, replaced his spectacles. It was difficult to explain to anyone how he picked those he asked to join the Order. They had to be willing, of course, and to want to bring about an end to the darkness that was slowly seeping into their world. But it was more than that, and it was more than just the requirement of bravery and courage and strength.

"If he understands that there is much more at stake than just beating Lestrange?" Moody supplied.

Dumbledore nodded. In the end, they had to understand that these were things worth dying for.


	12. The Prosecution's Case

Chapter Twelve: The Prosecution's Case

Despite his years of serving as a barrister, despite the prestige attached to his name and the self-entitlement that came with it, James still felt the thrill of dread that run up and down his spine before every trial. The full Wizengamot was spread out before him, dressed in somber black robes and wearing grave expressions on their features. The galleries were full as well, packed with members of the wizarding society, people who wanted to know what would happen now. James knew some of them no doubt wanted to see Lestrange humiliated as he had been seven years ago, but just as many wanted to see Lily punished.

And punished for what? Crimes she didn't commit? Or the disgrace of being born to Muggles?

He glanced at the chair in the center of the room, placed between the two tables where the counsel for the prosecution and defense sat. The arms of the chair had the usual heavy chains, enchanted so that they could not be broken. As if a single witch could somehow escape a room full of Aurors and other fully competent people.

Lily would be sitting in that chair.

James looked up, his gaze moving towards Lestrange. The other man smiled at him, a self-satisfied smirk of someone who fully expects to win. And how could he not expect that? Alistair Bones had shown quite clearly where he stood on the matter.

It was like playing cards with a trick deck, James thought bitterly, glaring at Lestrange. The game was stacked against him, how was he supposed to win?

Marlene was at his side, sorting through a stack of parchment. She rested her fingers lightly on his hand and murmured, "Don't. You need to keep your temper under control."

James frowned at her, but nodded once to show that he understood, and she dropped her hand. But not before a flash startled them both, and James glanced towards the camera that had taken the picture, and the grinning reporter standing next to her cameraman, writing furiously on a pad of paper.

Another story about James and Marlene's relationship, no doubt. James grimaced and looked away, trying not to let his displeasure show. He knew many people expected the two of them to get married – two purebloods, good friends, working together for so long, how could they _not_ be perfect for each other? – and he didn't want to have to endure more of those speculations. Not now, not when he had more important things to worry about.

The doors behind them opened, and an instant hush fell over the crowded room. James turned and watched as two Dementors floated into the room, bringing Lily between them. She looked pale and worn, and her face was etched in heavy lines. She met his gaze for a brief moment, and then looked down, focusing on walking steadily towards the chair.

She was at least wearing the robes Marlene had picked out for her.

One of the Dementors shoved her roughly into the chair, and then chains instantly curled around her arms, holding her tightly in place. She stiffened, a momentary panic blazing in her eyes at the sudden containment, but then seemed to force herself to relax, to lift her chin and stare calmly at those gathered to pass judgment on her.

And James had to remind himself that she had been through this once before.

As the Dementors drifted away, the room filled again with noise and with the flashes of light from various cameras, all eager to capture pictures of the accused. Lily did not look at them, but James could not avoid staring at the crowd, watching as they leaned forward in their seats like vultures awaiting a kill.

Alistair Bones quickly called for quiet. His request was immediately respected, and an almost unnatural stillness fell over the room. He regarded Lily for a long moment, then turned his head and looked at the young wizard sitting several seats down from him on the first bench of the Wizengamot's raised platform. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," the wizard replied, lifting his quill and holding it poised over a roll of parchment. He was clearly the court scribe, and James spared him only a brief glance before turning his attention back to Bones.

"Lily Evans," Bones said severely, "you have been brought before the Wizengamot and accused of the murder of Remus Lupin. How do you plead?"

Lily's eyes darted to James for a fraction of a second before she responded in a clear voice, "Not guilty."

Bones narrowed his eyes and nodded. In a clear voice that echoed in the stone chamber, he said, "Very well. Let the record reflect the following. Defendant, Lily Evans. Chief of the Wizengamot, presiding over this trial, Alistair Bones. Counsel for the prosecution, Rodolphus Lestrange. Counsel for the Defense, James Potter. Official interrogations to be completed by both counsel."

James glanced at Lily again. She wasn't looking at him, but instead had all of her attention focused solely on Bones. Her hands were clenched tightly on the armrests of the chair, her knuckles turned white from the pressure of her grip. Her bloodless lips were compressed into a thin line, and her posture was stiff and tense.

She was clearly nervous.

And James could hardly blame her.

The courtrooms had always unnerved him, and he had never entered one as a defendant. He hated the way the chains wrapped around her, holding her in place as though she was already determined guilty. And the entire atmosphere of the room, from the dismal stone walls with their flickering torches to the fifty figures lining the highest benches, looming over them all, did nothing to soften the harsh severity and unfairness of the entire situation.

"The prosecution may present its case."

Rodolphus rose to his feet, a thin smile gracing his lips. He did not look at Lily or James as he walked towards the witness box. Pausing in front of the box, he turned and faced the gathered audience. "The prosecution calls Frank Longbottom to the stand."

It was not particularly surprising to James, but Lily jerked instinctively at the pronouncement. He wasn't sure what she had expected, but Lestrange would of course call one of the Aurors who processed the crime scene to testify as to what they found. And he would clearly pick Longbottom because anyone who remembered the trial from seven years ago would remember that Longbottom was Lily's alibi. That her supporter could turn on her now would be one more reason for them to believe her guilt.

Longobttom walked to the witness box and allowed himself to be sworn in. He glanced quickly at Lily as he did so, his eyes lingering on her for just a fraction of a second. And James could have sworn that he saw Lily shift uncomfortably, as though she was afraid of what he might say.

He supposed he couldn't really blame her for that. Their friendship had soured several years ago, and from everything James could glean, it was Longbottom who had turned his back on Lily.

"Please state your name and occupation for the Wizengamot," Lestrange said.

"Frank Longbottom, Auror," Longbottom replied. He was no longer looking at Lily, and he had not yet looked over at James or Marlene. His gaze switched back and forth between Lestrange and the members of the Wizengamot, but when he spoke, he seemed to focus solely on the prosecutor.

And the dislike and disgust in his gaze was blatantly obvious to everyone in the room.

But Lestrange didn't seem to mind or even really notice.

"Can you please tell us, in your own words, exactly what happened on the evening of September 16th?"

Longbottom blinked a couple times, then said, "I was at home when I received a summons from Auror Moody. I was to join him immediately at the home of Remus Lupin. I followed his instructions immediately, and when I arrived, Aurors Moody and Bagley were already there. We drew our wands and went into Lupin's home. Upon entry, Auror Moody commented that he smelled blood. We followed the smell to Lupin's bedroom and…"

"One moment," Lestrange cut in. "When Moody summoned you, did he say why?"

Longbottom frowned, and then answered, "No."

"And when you arrived at Mr. Lupin's home, did he say what had happened? Why you had been summoned?"

Longbottom shrugged. "Someone had reported sounds of a disturbance to the… uh… the Muggle police. The Monitors," and here he paused and looked at the audience briefly before elaborating, "the people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who monitor situations in the Muggle world in case it turns out that they are magical, they had determined that they believed this to be of magical origin."

"Why?" Lestrange asked.

"Because it was at Lupin's home, and they knew he was a wizard," Longbottom answered. "A Monitor – I'm not sure which one – informed Auror Moody. That is why we came to investigate."

"Thank you for the clarification," Lestrange said with a grim smile. "Now, you were telling the court what had happened when you entered Lupin's bedroom."

Longbottom glared at him, but continued, "It was in disarray. It looked as though there had been a fight. There was blood on the floor, and splashed on some of the furniture as well. And Lupin… he was dead."

A quick look at Lily told James that she was close to tears. The reminder of what had happened to Lupin was clearly not easy for her to accept, and she seemed to be struggling. But there was no doubt that the trial would become even harder for her to endure, and he didn't want her to break down now, before it had even really started.

He glanced up at the Wizengamot. Several of them were gazing at Longbottom with thoughtful expressions on their faces. Longbottom was well-liked, even if he wasn't particularly social, and the death of his wife had added to his popularity by increasing sympathy for him. It was clear that his words carried weight.

But did they carry enough weight to put Lily in Azkaban for life? Or to have her lose her soul?

"How did he die?" Lestrange pressed.

Longbottom's lips thinned into a straight line and he answered bitterly, "He had been stabbed in the chest. The assumed murder weapon – a knife – was not found."

"Stabbed?" Lestrange repeated, feigning surprise. As though he did not know this already, as though he hadn't known all along how Longbottom would answer. "That's a very non-magical method of killing someone, isn't it?"

"It was a non-magical killing," Longbottom answered, forcing out the words.

Lestrange smiled caustically. "Indeed. Perhaps a killing more likely to be committed by someone with a non-magical background?"

"Objection!" James snapped, jumping to his feet. "Speculation."

Bones studied James for a long moment before allowing his gaze to move languidly to Lily. It was clear to everyone in the room that he was considering Lestrange's implied accusation, and the way his lips turned up at the ends was enough to indicate he agreed with the assessment.

Still, the trial was governed by rules and regulations, and he said calmly, almost drawling, "Sustained. In the future, Mr. Lestrange, please avoid such speculation."

Lestrange smirked. "My apologies," he sneered, giving James a disgusted look. Then he turned back to Longbottom and asked, "And was there anyone else in the bedroom?"

Longbottom hesitated. He was now looking at Lily, and it seemed as though he could not look away. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but the words wouldn't form.

"Auror Longbottom," Lestrange said, his voice suddenly harder. "Might I remind you that you are under oath?"

Longbottom blinked and looked at Lestrange. "Lily Evans," he said hoarsely. "She was in the room. She was standing over Lupin's body. His blood was on her robes."

A murmur ran through the crowd and several more flashes of light indicated photographs had been taken. James refrained from rolling his eyes with great difficulty. Didn't they already know that Lily had been found standing above Lupin's body? It had been in the papers, it had been passed around as gossip to further feed the scandal. Longbottom's admission of it did not change anything.

He looked at Lily. She was looking down at her lap, but, as though sensing his eyes on her, she looked up and caught his gaze.

Her green eyes were filled with tears.

"Auror Longbottom," Lestrange continued, "do you have any sort of personal relationship with either the deceased or the accused?"

Longbottom started, looking up at Lestrange. He clearly had not been anticipating _that_ question, although James did not know why. After all, the vast majority of people in this room would know about Malfoy's death and the resulting trial, and would therefore know that he had been friendly with Lily in the past. _Of course_ that issue was bound to come up.

Longbottom looked again at Lily. She met his gaze, her chin lifted slightly, almost defiantly. Like she was daring him to deny ever being friends with her.

"I knew them both quite well," Longbottom said finally. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Lupin was best man at my wedding." He paused, then added, "But I had not spoken to either of them in three years."

"I see. And why not?" Lestrange pressed.

"Objection," James said, rising to his feet again. "Relevance?"

Bones didn't even wait for Lestrange to defend his actions before siding against James. "Overruled," he said sharply, giving James a glare that warned him to keep from protesting. "You may answer the question, Mr. Longbottom."

"We had a disagreement," Longbottom said uneasily. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to get into the details. James couldn't blame him for not wanting his privacy to be so drastically invaded, but Lestrange was leaning forward, waiting for more.

So was everyone else in the room.

Everyone except Lily, who was more than content to stare down at her hands and not meet Longbottom's gaze.

"My wife had been killed by some sort of Dark Arts," Longbottom said. "Lupin wanted to fight the Dark Arts and Lily… Miss Evans… did not. We argued about it, all three of us. Lupin left England shortly after that."

"Miss Evans did not wish to fight the Dark Arts, and disagreed with Mr. Lupin's decision to do so?" Lestrange murmured. "Did she disagree… violently?"

"She was angry," Longbottom said gruffly, but then he lapsed into silence and, staring furiously at Lestrange, refused to say anymore.

"Thank you," Lestrange said. "No further questions."

James rose slowly to his feet. He had anticipated that the first witness called would be one of the Aurors – although he had been hoping for Moody – and so he had most of his questions already planned.

"Auror Longbottom," he said, "you mentioned that the murder weapon was not found. It was not in the bedroom?"

"No," Longbottom answered readily enough.

"And Miss Evans did not have it on her person?"

"No, she did not," Longbottom agreed.

"So it was removed from the room sometime between Mr. Lupin being killed and you arriving with the other Aurors. Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir," Longbottom said with a nod. "That is most likely correct."

"So… we are supposed to believe that Miss Evans removed the murder weapon from the home and then went back to the room and waited there for the Aurors to find her with the body?" James said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That would seem rather foolish, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Longbottom agreed.

"Can you tell me how Miss Evans reacted to the presence of the Aurors?" James asked.

Longbottom hesitated, then said, "She didn't. She didn't seem to notice us at all. She was taken away very quickly so I did not talk to her. Did not even really see her. Just a glimpse in the beginning. She seemed… oblivious. She was standing still and staring at Lupin… I don't think she saw anything else around her besides him."

"That sounds like she was in shock," James said, pursing his lips. "The kind of shock one my experience from coming to visit an old friend and finding them murdered?"

"Objection!" Lestrange called, not even bothering to rise to his feet. "Speculation. Leading the witness."

"Sustained," Bones said instantly. He narrowed both eyes at James and said severely, and with a slight threat in his voice, "Do not repeat that type of questioning, Mr. Potter, or Miss Evans will have to find herself new representation."

James seethed silently, his hands curling into fists. But before he could say anything, he caught Marlene's gaze. She eyed him pointedly for a long moment, and he knew she was silently telling him not to retaliate. He had to stay calm. He could not afford to lose his temper while the entirety of wizarding Britain watched. Not if he was to have any chance of saving Lily.

Forcing himself to look away from Marlene, he instead turned his attention back to Longbottom.

"Just to reiterate, when you arrived at Mr. Lupin's house, Lupin was dead and the murder weapon was missing. Miss Evans did not have it with her."

"That is correct," Longbottom answered.

James nodded wearily. "Did you speak to Miss Evans after she was arrested?"

"Yes. I visited her at Azkaban. Once."

A shiver ran through the crowd at the mention of the fortress prison. James waited until the murmurs died down, letting the weight of the words sink in. Everyone already knew that Lily had been there, of course, but to be reminded of it could not hurt. It would help explain her pale and gaunt appearance, and perhaps they would look past first impressions and find some sympathy for her.

Or perhaps not.

"And what did you speak to her about?" James asked.

Longbottom frowned. "I asked her if she had spoken to Lupin in the last three years. I asked her if she knew where he had been. She replied in the negative to both questions. She also said that she had not tried to contact him in those three years. I then asked her why she was at Lupin's house, and she said that he had asked her to come over. She had acquiesced to the request, she said, because she wanted to see him again. To make up for all the time that they hadn't spoken."

"And then?" James prompted.

"Then I left," Longbottom said simply.

"Did Miss Evans at any point during the conversation admit or allude to killing Mr. Lupin?" James asked.

"No," Longbottom answered. "In fact, she was adamant that she had nothing to do with it. She loved him and would never have hurt him."

"Thank you," James said. "No further questions."

* * *

She did not bother looking left or right as she entered the courtroom. She had done this before, after all. Seven years ago, with Lily Evans the accused, Rodolphus the prosecutor, and herself a witness. The entire scenario had the eerie feeling of déjà vu, perhaps because, in some odd way, she _had_ been here before.

Of course, last time, it had been her husband who was dead.

Narcissa Malfoy settled herself into the witness box and allowed her gaze to wander over the crowded room. Every seat was full, she noted with some interest, and the spectators were literally sitting on the edges of their seats, anxious to hear every word of the proceedings.

She folded her hands in her lap and looked at Rodolphus.

"Would you please state your name for the court," he asked politely.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she said softly, her voice just loud enough to be heard by those straining to catch her words. The room grew quieter as a hush fell, and she allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She still knew how to quiet a crowd without any perceivable effort, even if she no longer frequently used that skill.

"And, in the interest of fairness, would you please state your relationship to myself," Rodolphus continued in an empty display of honesty. She smiled coolly, it was clear that he was attempting to give the impression that he would not hide anything from the Wizengamot. As though every single person sitting on that bench did not already know how they were related.

"You are my brother-in-law," she said. "You married my sister Bellatrix." A pause, then she added, "It was very brave of you."

That got a round of laughter from the audience and the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. Bellatrix's reputation was well known.

Rodolphus smiled for a moment, pleased. Then he said, "And your relationship with Lily Evans?"

Here, Narcissa wrinkled her nose, conveying her dislike of the question. She glanced briefly at Lily and was caught by the starkness of her green-eyed gaze, but did not falter. Aloud, she said, "We were friends once. But that was a long time ago. The friendship dwindled… and was gone even before she killed my husband."

"Objection!" Potter was on his feet instantly, his face flushed with anger. "Lily was cleared of those charges," he hissed, glaring viciously at both her and Rodolphus. "And Malfoy's murder is not relevant to the trial at hand."

"_I_ will decide what is relevant, Mr. Potter," Alistair Bones interrupted coldly, giving Potter an icily reproachful look. Potter seemed only to be even more outraged by the response, and opened his mouth to retort. But he was stopped by Marlene McKinnon resting a hand on his arm and giving him a warning look.

Several cameras flashed, taking more pictures. No doubt it would be fodder for the next round of gossip in the society sections of various newspapers. Another rumor of the impending engagement between the two close friends. A union between two pureblood families. It would make everyone proud.

But Narcissa was quite interested in the way Potter had called Evans by her given name. _Lily_. Did he realize how much that slip gave away about him? Did he realize that, even now, every glance in the direction of the redhead revealed so much more than he intended?

Bones was speaking again, and she looked away from Potter, listening to the conversation playing out before her.

"It would be best if your witness could keep her comments restricted to this crime," Bones was saying gravely.

Rodolphus nodded. "Of course."

Then Bones turned to Narcissa and added politely, "However, the court recognizes that your relationship with the defendant is necessarily impacted by the death of your husband. You may proceed in answering Mr. Lestrange's question."

"Thank you," Narcissa replied demurely, staring down at her manicured fingernails. The name Malfoy still carried respect, and seven years had not lessened the sympathy she received when playing the bereaved – and occasionally angry – widow.

"You were explaining your relationship to the defendant," Rodolphus prompted, and she looked back at him with a nod.

"Yes. As I was saying, I was friends with Evans a long time ago. It was mutually beneficial to us to work together in some of the harder classes at Hogwarts. We drifted apart when each of us realized that the other did not share our… _priorities_. I have not spoken to her in years. Not since my husband's… death."

There was just enough delicate emphasis on the right words to convey the impression of distaste. Those who had not heard her testimony seven years ago would know nothing of her past – she went to great lengths to avoid discussing her friendship with Lily, after all – and even those who did could not help but be swayed by the way she described it now. Nothing more than convenience, and something she let go of as soon as it became clear to her that the taint of Lily's blood could not be overlooked.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Potter sit down again, still seething.

She smiled.

"And Mr. Lupin? Did you know him?"

"No. I knew who he was, and perhaps we spoke once or twice. But he was not my friend," she answered.

"And what do you know of the relationship between Miss Evans and Mr. Lupin?" Rodolphus questioned.

"They were friends," Narcissa answered. "Perhaps more than friends." She looked again at Lily. The redhead was no longer looking at her, and Narcissa lifted her chin a little in contempt.

"More than friends?" Lestrange prompted.

"It was clear to anyone with eyes that Lupin loved her from the day they met," Narcissa said dryly. "Even I could tell, and I barely spoke to him. As far as I know, they never dated while at Hogwarts, though she did nothing to discourage his attentions."

She debated going as far as saying that Lily strung him along, used him just like she used everyone else in her life. But one look at the audience crowded into the room, one brief glance at the faces lining the Wizengamot's bench, and she knew she didn't have to. They already understood what she was saying, they already got the point.

Still, she couldn't help but twist the knife just a little bit deeper into the wound. Staring hard at Lily, almost daring the other witch to lift her head and meet her gaze, she added, "I heard when they split, too. I imagine it was acrimonious if we are to believe that they really did not speak to each other for three full years. They were _such_ good friends before that."

Sure enough, that caused Lily to raise her head in fury, but Narcissa simply gave her a cold smile in response.

* * *

"How could he just sit there and let this happen?" James fumed, pacing back and forth in his office. Marlene was standing near the door with her arms folded over her chest and Sirius was perched on the edge of a chair he had conjured, but James was filled with too much angry energy to stay still.

He wanted to hex someone.

"Come on, mate, you know Bones has an agenda," Sirius said reasonably, "and it's the same one as Lestrange's. He wasn't going to tell Narcissa to stop talking. Not when she was succeeding in painting a very damning picture of Evans and Lupin."

James shook his head. "None of it was even relevant," he growled.

"It reminded everyone that she had been accused of murder once before," Marlene said softly. "It reminded them that pretty much everyone believed she was guilty. Even if the Wizengamot did not convict her."

"As though people needed to be reminded of that," James muttered.

"Putting Narcissa Malfoy on the stand made it more… emotional. More real. She's a grieving widow, even after all these years."

"She didn't seem to be grieving," James snapped. "She was smug and arrogant."

"She's always smug and arrogant," Sirius pointed out.

James frowned and looked away. This had done a lot more damage to his case than he wanted to admit, and he hadn't been prepared for it. Somehow, it hadn't even occurred to him that they would put Mrs. Malfoy on the witness stand.

"Look, it might be better that it's been brought up now," Sirius said finally, his voice uncharacteristically serious. James sent him a puzzled frown, and he elaborated, "It was going to be on everyone's minds, anyway. The only reason this is getting so much attention is because of the existing enmity between Lestrange and Evans. And that has to do with Malfoy's death. So at least they've actually come out and said that. This way we don't have to worry about figuring out what people are thinking. We _know_ what they are thinking."

"Yeah," James said irritably. "They're thinking that Lily is a murderer."

"Then remind them what Lestrange is," Marlene suggested quietly. "They already know the relationship between Evans and Lupin… why don't you remind them about the relationship between Evans and Lestrange."

* * *

"Mrs. Malfoy," James said, rising to his feet and staring hard at the blonde witch in front of him, "you mentioned earlier that your relationship with Miss Evans fell apart before your husband's death."

"That's right," she answered.

"Miss Evans was accused of the murder of your husband, wasn't she?" James pressed.

"Yes, she was," Mrs. Malfoy replied, and James could tell that she had no idea where this conversation was going, and she was not happy about it. He had to bite back the urge to laugh at her, and instead settled for smiling enigmatically.

Behind them, Lestrange shifted in his seat.

"She was not convicted though, was she?" James asked.

"That doesn't mean she was innocent," Mrs. Malfoy said harshly. "It just means that she managed to worm her way out of trouble. It just means…"

"I think," James interrupted softly, "that this court is perfectly capable of figuring out for itself what the meaning of the words 'not guilty' are." She glared at him, but James paid no attention to that. He continued, "And who was the prosecutor for that trial?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"So… Mr. Lestrange has a past… relationship… with Miss Evans," James said thoughtfully, turning and staring at the wizard in question. He was dimly aware of Lily watching him with a worried gaze, and he wished he could have explained this to her ahead of time. But he'd only realized in the last minute what he wanted to do, and there hadn't been enough time between hearing Marlene's suggestion and the resuming of the trial for him to speak to her.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He couldn't dwell on Lily right now.

"She was accused of a murder, but it could not be proven. That would be quite a blow for Mr. Lestrange, would it not?"

Mrs. Malfoy did not answer.

Lestrange did. "Objection," he hissed. "Relevance? _And_ counsel is leading the witness."

"My apologies, I will rephrase the question," James said smoothly. "But as for relevance… Mr. Lestrange already introduced this particular subject matter is his direct examination. He can hardly claim that it is irrelevant now."

"My involvement in that murder trial…"

"Is on record and well-known by everyone," James said, smirking. "As is your failure to secure a conviction. If the prosecutor has a prior grudge against the defendant, that _is_ relevant."

"Enough!" Bones ordered tersely. "Mr. Potter, you will contain yourself!"

James turned back to the Wizengamot and bowed his head. "My apologies," he repeated. But it was too late for anyone to do anything about what he had said. Lestrange was seething and Mrs. Malfoy looked distressed, but the rest of the courtroom had heard James' words and was thinking over what he had said.

Lestrange _did_ have a prior grudge against Lily.

He looked at Lily and smiled, and she offered a tentative smile in return. The chains still bound her tightly to the chair, and she still looked worn and weary and almost defeated. But James, at least, was starting to feel a little bit of hope.


	13. Motives

Chapter Thirteen: Motives

James eyed the man in the witness box warily. The other wizard would have been tall, but he was stooped over, his shoulders rounded. His gray eyes were narrow and shrewd and his face was lined with wrinkles. His salt-and-pepper hair fell down nearly to his chin, and there was just something about his entire countenance that gave the impression of _experience_. This was a man who had seen a lot in life.

But he was also quite obviously upset about something. His eyes kept wandering around the courtroom, and he could not meet anyone's gaze for more than a few seconds.

Lestrange smiled enigmatically at his witness as he walked forward. There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes that James did not like, and it set him instantly on edge.

He looked over at Lily, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes were focused intently on the witness, a frown appearing momentarily on her face. It was as though she only vaguely recognized him, and was trying to determine where she had seen the wizard before.

"Please state your name for the record," Lestrange said, and James snapped his attention back to the witness.

"Robert Ringleton," the wizard replied.

"And your occupation?"

"I'm the barkeep at The Hungry Hippogriff," Ringleton replied. "As I am sure many of you know," he added with a wry smile, nodding his head towards the audience that filled the seats on the edges of the room.

His comment was met with a few chuckles.

James eyed the witness with renewed interest. Although he had never been inside the Hungry Hippogriff itself, he knew the reputation. Everyone did. The tavern was known both for its popularity and its seedy character. While most of its patrons were common criminals, it entertained the pureblood elites as well. Particularly those who needed to find someone else to do their dirty work for them.

"Thank you," Lestrange said. "And can you please tell the Wizengamot, in your own words, what happened on the evening of September 15th?"

"I was working at the tavern," Ringleton said, lifting his chin slightly and meeting Lestrange's gaze for a brief moment before looking away awkwardly. "It was quite crowded, and one of my barmaids had come down with dragonpox and was unable to work that night. So it was just me and Esmie – my other barmaid – and we were both overworked."

"Esmie?" James whispered, looking over at Marlene. "Is that…"

"Esmeralda Moon," Marlene confirmed. "I think that is who he means. I remember her getting a job there after school."

James narrowed his eyes at that. He knew Esmeralda. They had gone to Hogwarts together, although she had been in Hufflepuff. He remembered her as tall and pretty and remarkably uninteresting, but honest to a fault. So much, in fact, that she had more than once gotten herself in detention because of her inability to lie to a professor even when she would have been able to get away with it.

He filed that bit of information away for later. Whatever story Ringleton had to tell, it might be worth double-checking the accuracy of it.

"It was about eleven o'clock that night when this bloke entered," Ringleton continued his story. "He came up to the bar and waited there for a while. He kept looking at the door kind of anxiously, so I figured he had a lady friend coming and I let him be."

"Do you know who this man was?" Lestrange asked.

"I didn't at the time," Ringleton answered. "But then I saw the papers and I recognized his picture. It was Remus Lupin."

James inhaled sharply.

"So how long did Mr. Lupin wait at the bar?"

Ringleton appeared to consider this. "Um… about forty-five minutes. Then his friend came."

"His friend?" Lestrange pressed.

"Yes," Ringleton said, his gaze sliding past Lestrange as though he meant to look at Lily. But he didn't quite manage it, and averted his eyes before he could meet hers. Looking at his own hands, he said, "Lily Evans. She showed up a bit before midnight and the two of them went to one of the tables in the corner to talk."

"I never met Remus there…" Lily started, eyes flashing. She was straining against the chains that wrapped around her wrists, holding her in place. Her face was flushed and her reaction was so genuine that James couldn't help but believe her.

Still, he couldn't let her start arguing in the middle of the testimony. It wouldn't help her case.

"Lily," he hissed, interrupting her protests. "_Don't_."

"But he's lying!" Lily spat.

"Mr. Potter, if you cannot control your client…" Bones threatened lazily from his seat on the Wizengamot's raised platform.

"Lily, please," James whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough so that the members of the Wizengamot wouldn't hear. "Please, just let Lestrange finished his questioning. If you interrupt, it's not going to help. It just makes you look more desperate… and more guilty."

Lily glared, but nodded reluctantly.

Lestrange continued as though there had been no interruption. "So Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans met at The Hungry Hippogriff on September 15th, the day before Mr. Lupin was found dead."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. Please proceed."

"Like I said, we were busy that night," Ringleton said, picking up his story once more, "so I didn't pay much attention to either of them. They were there for about an hour, I believe. It was close to one o'clock when they left."

"If you were so busy, how do you remember the time that they left?" Lestrange asked.

Ringleton looked down at the ground for a moment, then said, "They were arguing. Evans started yelling at Lupin. It caused a lot of commotion and I was worried they might actually start some sort of fight. I went over to tell them to calm down, but before I got there, Evans…" He looked up, stared squarely at Lestrange, and said flatly, "Evans yelled at Lupin that he was wrong about everything and he'd better change his mind. Or else." He trailed off and let out a long sigh. "Then she stormed out."

"I never said that! This whole thing is a lie," Lily whispered at James, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. "Why is he saying any of this?"

James didn't answer. He was too busy studying Ringleton's expression. Throughout the entire testimony, the barkeep had been unable to look directly at Lily. He had been unable to hold anyone's gaze, but he had avoided even glancing at Lily. And there was something about his last comment, about the way he looked at Lestrange…

James glanced at Marlene. "What do you think?" he whispered.

Marlene looked back and forth between Ringleton and Lestrange. "I think you're not going to be able to find any weakness in his testimony," she murmured. "And I think he's not going to back down from what he is saying."

James ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated.

"Don't do that," Marlene muttered irritably. "You know it just makes your hair even _more_ messy."

* * *

Marlene had been right. Nothing James said or did had been able to change Ringleton's story, and without any preparations, without knowing anything at all about the barkeep, he had been woefully unprepared for the cross-examination. Lestrange had sat there the entire time, smirking triumphantly, and James felt his anger grow.

Only Marlene's constant admonishing glares had kept him from completely losing his temper at the situation.

Ringleton would not budge. His testimony had been damning, and James had no idea how to counter it.

But Lily had sworn that this was all a lie, and James believed her.

And so he had decided to go for a walk in the hopes that the fresh air would clear his mind and give him some idea of how to proceed. Lily had been taken back to Azkaban and Marlene had gone back to the office, and he just needed a chance to think.

He wandered aimlessly, finding himself turning down side streets and venturing into a long alley.

The attack came without warning and James, tired and frustrated and paying no attention whatsoever to his surroundings, stumbled forward as his wand went spinning out of his grasp. It slipped through his fingers even as he tried to regain his hold on the smooth wood, and flew in a wide arc. It was deftly caught by a hooded figure that stepped out of the shadows.

James tensed, ready for whatever would come next. He did not have his wand and his control of wandless magic was minimal at best, but if the figure came close enough, he could perhaps use Muggle fighting long enough to get away…

But the figure did not come any closer.

"Potter."

The voice was hoarse and strained, and it sounded familiar. But James couldn't place it.

"Who are you?" he demanded, shifting his weight forward slightly and focusing all his concentration on reaching for the magic inside. If he could just manage to somehow…

The wizard – because James was fairly certain it was a man – flicked his wand and James was suddenly shoved up against the building. He felt frozen, but his head was free enough that he could talk. A modified full body bind?

"You'll have to forgive the spell but I'd rather not have you attacking me or trying to escape," the unknown wizard said. He stepped into the dim light of the alley, and James saw that his face was covered by a mask. There were two thin slots for eyes and through those, he could see gray orbs staring back at him.

"What do you want?" James demanded, refusing to show his fear. He cursed inwardly for his own foolishness. How could he have let his guard down? Now he was trapped and helpless. Was this wizard working with Lestrange?

"Just a moment of your time," the wizard answered. "I have something to tell you, and I need you to listen. And to understand."

"Okay," James said slowly, unsure. It didn't seem like the wizard was going to kill him, but then why all the secrecy? And why did that voice sound so familiar?

"Lucius Malfoy was supposed to be Minister of Magic," the wizard said in a hushed voice.

"_What_?"

"Be quiet," the wizard snapped, eyes darting back and forth beneath the mask. "I don't have time to waste on your interruptions." His voice was angry, but James suddenly heard the worry beneath it, and watched as the head turned towards the opening of the alley.

The wizard was afraid.

James didn't know what to think of that.

"Seven years ago. It was part of the plan, of _his_ plan. Malfoy would be Minister, and Rodolphus Lestrange would be Chief of the Wizengamot. St. Mungo's was to fall to Augustus Rookwood's control," the wizard said, his words rushed.

James frowned. "Rookwood? He's an Unspeakable," he countered, shaking his head. "He's not even a Healer, why would he get control of…"

"Fool!" the wizard snapped irritably. "Do you think that _mattered_? What does the Dark Lord care for Healers or qualifications? It was about control, and Rookwood was a loyal follower. They all were, all three of them, and _he_ had spent a long time building up this army and this plan."

"The Dark Lord," James repeated numbly. "I… Voldemort?"

"_Do not say his name_!"

The unknown wizard glanced around once more, his movements sharp, tense. It was almost as though he expected to be attacked at any moment, or to be spied upon and reported back to someone else. His eyes kept searching for something or someone, and it took James a moment to realize that this man must be a follower of Voldemort's.

How else would he know the details of the Dark wizard's plans?

James strained against the invisible binds holding him in place. But the spell was too strong, and his assailant still had both wands. Even if he were to somehow escape these confines, he wouldn't be able to win any fight against the other wizard, and he probably wouldn't even be able to escape.

He focused once again on the stranger, on the voice that sounded so oddly familiar.

"And then Malfoy died," the wizard continued. "And Lestrange… the fool went against a Mudblood and _lost_." There was a sneer in the voice, and a definitely derisive emphasis on both the slur and the word lost. James had a brief moment of vaguely wondering what bothered this man more – that Lily was Muggleborn, or that Lestrange had been unable to beat her.

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "So?" he asked, opening his eyes once more. "Why does any of this matter?"

"Why does it matter?" the wizard repeated incredulously. "Don't you _see_?" He stepped backwards, shaking his head in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. "I thought you were supposed to be _intelligent_."

"At least I am not a coward," James spat. "You had to disarm me and cast a body bind before you would talk to me?"

The wizard hesitated. "I am no coward," he said finally, his voice thin. "But I am no fool, either. And don't speak of cowardice, I remember you at Hogwarts. You were hardly brave enough to duel anyone on your own, were you? And I don't remember you ever allowing for a fair fight."

James frowned. So this hooded figure knew him well enough to know he played pranks on students at Hogwarts, knew him well enough to know he was friends with Sirius. But who was it? A Slytherin he had pranked one too many times, perhaps?

But if the man disliked him so much, why hadn't he simply hurt or killed James and then left? Why was he still standing here, talking about Lucius Malfoy?

The wizard looked about the alley once more, then said, "Don't waste any more time. I have the wands, Potter, and I will silence you if I have to. But you need to hear this. You need to understand."

"Alright," James said, thoroughly bewildered but willing to play the game for now. "I'm listening."

"Malfoy was dead and Lestrange was disgraced and the plans were ruined," the stranger said. "The Dark Lord never wanted an all-out fight. He'd been recruiting, yes, and his followers… well, we'd taken a certain about of glee in our soon-to-be future, but never anything people would really notice."

"Muggles and Muggleborns," James whispered, remembering what Dumbledore and Mr. McKinnon had both told him about the darkness of seven years ago.

"Nobody cares about them," his assailant confirmed.

"I do," James argued heatedly.

The wizard laughed. "No, Potter, you don't. You never did. Very few lifted a finger to stop the Dark Lord seven years ago. Very few even noticed anything was happening." He stepped closer to James. "Dumbledore, that old Muggle-loving fool, and a few of his loyal followers. But who else? Who really cared?"

James swallowed uneasily. It was true that he had not known of Voldemort's slow rise in influence, and if he had not decided to take Lily's case, he probably still would know nothing about it. But it was not prejudice that closed his mind to the plight of Muggleborns, or intolerance that made him focus more on his own needs than on the growing bigotry in society. It was just…

Just what? Indifference?

That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The stranger continued, "As I was saying, the Dark Lord did not want a big fight. He wanted to simply take over the wizarding society, to wrap his influence around everything that actually mattered. And he would have had that, too. A bloodless coup and then he would have had untold power and a beginning for his campaign to purge the world of dirty-blooded filth."

"Why try to avoid bloodshed if his plan was to start killing people as soon as he had power?" James demanded, feeling sickened.

The man laughed again. "Ease, I suppose. It is far simpler to destroy when you already have the power, Potter, than to destroy while trying to gain power." He paused, heaved a sigh. "But with Malfoy dead and Lestrange discredited, only Rookwood was left. And what could he do? What did St. Mungo's matter to the Dark Lord if we did not have the Ministry and the Wizengamot?"

"Why did you need all three?"

"The four most powerful and important institutions in wizarding Britain, Potter," the wizard said with a sneer. "The Ministry, the Wizengamot, St. Mungo's, and Hogwarts. Hogwarts is beyond our reach at the moment, and even the Dark Lord will admit that Dumbledore is a powerful wizard. He could not risk taking over with only two of the institutions under his control. Leaving the other two to Dumbledore was foolish at best, and the Dark Lord is no fool."

"So… so Voldemort is afraid of Dumbledore?" James questioned.

"He's _not_ afraid of anyone," the stranger spat. But then he was silent, and although James could not see his face, had no way of knowing what expression he wore, there was the oddest sense that he was rethinking his words, perhaps relenting a bit. "He's concerned," he said at last. "And he is wise enough not to begin a battle unless he is sure he can win."

"But seven years is a long time to wait," James protested.

The wizard shrugged. "Time means little to the Dark Lord," he answered. "But enough of this. Let me finish what I came to tell you, and then you may go." He glanced again towards the entrance of the alley before turning his attention back to James. "Lestrange was beaten by a Mudblood and was discredited, and Malfoy died, and the Dark Lord was not pleased. And look at everything Lestrange lost because of it."

"You mean his reputation?" James asked.

"More than that," the figure snarled. "When Evans was tried for murder, it was that old Muggle-loving Forsythe who was Chief. He died, though, and it wasn't Lestrange who got the job. It was Bones. Bones _won_. Why do you think Lestrange is so desperate now to get Evans convicted? He has to prove to the Dark Lord that he is still worthy of his position in the ranks. Why do you think he did everything that he did? Why do you think Alice Longbottom died?"

James gaped. "Lestrange did that?"

"_Of course_. Because Frank Longbottom was Evans' alibi. And that alibi did quite a lot of damage to the case. So Lestrange was left without the prestige he needed, and without the Dark Lord's favor."

James frowned. Once again, he was struck by the oddest sensation of knowing this man, of having met him before. The voice was familiar, as was the man's build…

"When the Dark Lord delayed his plans to take over the wizarding world, Dumbledore stopped paying attention. Or, at least, he was momentarily diverted by other issues, allowing the Dark Lord time to continue his plans. But the Headmaster grew suspicious again, he sent Lupin to investigate… and Lupin found something he wasn't supposed to find."

"What was it? What did he find?" James demanded eagerly. Would this be it, would this be the moment that the truth was revealed? Would he finally learn what it was that had lead to Lupin's death, and would that somehow allow him to figure out who had actually killed the wizard?

But the other wizard simply shook his head. "I don't know. That bit of information was never imparted to us. The Dark Lord did not find it relevant."

They were both silent for a moment, James trying to get over his disappointment of not receiving an answer, and the other wizard gathering up the rest of his thoughts.

"Why are you telling me this?" James asked finally.

"Because I want you to understand what you are up against. I want you to understand why this is about so much more than personal revenge for Lestrange. It is about power and greed and his need to prove his worth, and he will stop at nothing to succeed," the man answered. He came closer to James, close enough for his gray eyes to be seen clearly through the slits in the mask. "And because we all know that Evans didn't kill Lupin," the man finished. "I don't know who did, specifically, but I know that the Dark Lord ordered it."

"But why would a servant of the Dark Lord be revealing all this?" James asked warily.

The wizard did not answer right away. And just when James thought he _wouldn't_ answer, he said, "I am not so loyal to the Dark Lord, it would appear." And then he pointed his wand and James and muttered a spell.

James woke up on the dirty ground of the alley a few hours later, the immobilization curse removed, and his wand replaced within the folds of his robes.

* * *

"Merlin, mate, you look horrible," Sirius announced as James sank wearily into the chair behind his desk and dropped his head onto the wooden surface.

"Are you alright?" Marlene asked worriedly, crouching down next to him. He lifted his head briefly, and she met his eyes, searching his gaze for some sort of answer.

"I'm fine," James said. He attempted to sound dismissive, as though he could get them to drop the subject if they believed that it was of no consequence to him. But his voice didn't quite manage the right tone, and Marlene simply raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I'm fine, Lena," he said again.

Marlene nodded slowly and straightened back to her full height. But there was still suspicion in her gaze.

"What are you two doing here?" James asked, glancing at the clock. "It's late."

"When you didn't return after your walk, I was worried," Marlene explained. "I asked Sirius, and he hadn't seen you, either. We were just about to start searching for you when you entered."

"Rough day, huh?" Sirius said, conjuring a chair for himself with an idle wave of his wand and flopping into the seat. "McKinnon told me about the trial. Tough luck."

James snorted. "Lily says it's all a lie."

"Well, if the woman accused of murder says it then it _must_ be true," Sirius drawled sarcastically.

James frowned at his best friend. Sirius' attitude towards the entire situation seemed to bordering on cavalier, but he supposed he couldn't blame the other wizard for not being convinced of Lily's innocence. He had yet to meet the redhead, after all. He had yet to hear her speak about Remus' death and her need for justice, regardless of what it cost her.

And some voice in the back of his head whispered that he shouldn't be as convinced, either. Lily had lied… a lot. And she had been found standing over the body, blood on her robes. It was pretty damning evidence.

"James, really," Marlene interrupted his thought, "what _happened_ to you?"

James sighed and started to relay the story. It took him a while as he struggled not to leave out even a single word. Everything the mysterious wizard had said had been important, every detail had been a clue about something. But he still couldn't think clearly enough to figure out how this new information influenced what they already knew.

Marlene and Sirius listened in silence. As the story progressed, Marlene's expression grew grim and her face paled drastically. By contrast, Sirius leaned forward, eyes flashing dangerously; his reaction, though silent, was still obviously much more volatile.

"And then the wizard must have hit me with something, some spell, and I woke up later." James finished a bit ruefully, running a hand through his hair nervously. It galled him, when he thought back over the events, how easily he had been bested. He had not seen the attack coming, and had failed to protect himself properly.

"Well," Marlene said after a pause, "we did know that this was about more than just revenge for Lestrange. There is far more at stake here than just the outcome of a trial."

"It seems like it all revolves around this… this Voldemort," James agreed.

"We have to do something," Sirius seethed. "We have to stop this. We have to reveal Lestrange for what he is and fight back."

"I think we should focus first on finding a way to win this case," Marlene countered. "If that is possible."

"Lily never thought it was," James said despondently. "From the very beginning, she was convinced that we would lose. That I would lose. She cared only about getting justice for Lupin."

"This is about more than just Evans," Sirius snapped, rising to his feet and beginning to pace. "More lives than hers will be ruined if Voldemort gets power. You've heard the sorts of things he wants to happen, the things he believes in…" He trailed off for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Blood purity and all that nonsense."

"Be reasonable, Sirius," Marlene said tensely. "What do you think we can do? Track down this Voldemort and demand a duel?"

"You heard all the things Dumbledore said!" Sirius retorted, flushed. He stopped his pacing, whirled around to face her. "You heard what he believes Voldemort is planning."

"Yes," Marlene agreed in a clipped tone. "And I'm not foolish enough to think the three of us can stop him by rushing around with our wands drawn."

"So now it's foolishness to want to fight evil?"

James reached across the table and caught Marlene's wrist before she could respond to Sirius' last comment. He shook his head at her and she gave him a hard look, but let the matter drop. Still, James could see the annoyance in her eyes, and he knew how little she thought of Sirius' need for action.

But it wasn't just this tale that had gotten under Sirius' skin. James knew exactly what had upset his best mate so much, and while he was worried that Sirius' method of dealing with his frustration – attack first and plan later – was hardly appropriate given the circumstances, he could not blame Sirius for his feelings.

After all, it was likely that if Malfoy had been one of Voldemort's followers, other elitist pureblood families had been followers as well.

Like the Blacks.

Like Regulus.

James thought of the wizard who had attacked him in the alley and sighed. They needed to know more.

"We should tell Dumbledore what we've learned," Marlene suggested finally. "And then we should figure out a way to show that Ringleton was lying."

"Assuming he _was_ lying," Sirius hissed. "For all we know, every word he said was true. So then we'd just be wasting valuable time trying to poke holes in his story instead of focusing on the _real_ threat."

"Lily didn't kill Lupin," James said flatly. "Even the wizard who attacked me believed that. And I will not stand idly by and watch as she is made a scapegoat. _Again_."

Sirius gave him a searching look, then rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Besides," James continued, "if this trial is Lestrange's chance to prove that he deserves the power he has been promised, then we _have_ to stop him. It will be our best way of doing something to hurt Voldemort's plans. I'm sure Dumbledore will agree with that."

Sirius still looked mutinous. This was clearly not enough for him. Not while his family – and more particularly, his younger brother – was being sucked into the wrong side of a coming war.

But there was little any of them could do at the moment. How could they fight an enemy they had never seen, a wizard that they had only just heard of?

And that thought made something twist unpleasantly in James' stomach. How could he only be hearing of Voldemort now? How had he been so blind to the plight of Muggleborns before? Voldemort might have been quietly plotting in the background for these seven years, but if everything else James had learned was true, than prior to that the evil wizard had been much more active.

He had still been acting in secret, though. And he had been good enough at it that most of the wizarding world seemed not to notice.

"I'll talk to Esmie," Marlene offered softly. "Maybe she can help us. Maybe she can tell us what actually happened that night."

James acquiesced with a nod. "Sirius… can you talk to Ringleton?" he asked. "And also tell Dumbledore?" With any luck, Dumbledore would be better able to offer something that would appease Sirius' fury.

"Fine," Sirius muttered ungraciously. "What are you going to do?"

James thought back to one particular bit of information he had learned, that Lestrange had killed Alice Longbottom. "I'm going to talk to Frank Longbottom," he said. "I have something I need to find out."

Sirius and Marlene both left the office, and James leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes briefly. It might be about more than simple revenge for Lestrange, but James now knew that it was about more than just winning for him. It was about more than saving Lily or getting justice for Lupin.

Now, it was about the need to choose a side in the coming war. And he knew, without a doubt, which side he was on.


	14. As My Faith Begins to Crumble

AN: Um... don't hate me for this chapter? Please?

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: As My Faith Begins to Crumble

"Esmeralda Moon?"

The blonde witch looked up with a ready smile as Marlene approached. Her eyes widened in surprise when she recognized the other witch, and her smile grew. She tossed down the rag she had been using to wipe clean the tables and straightened.

"Marlene McKinnon," Esmie said, shaking her head. "I haven't seen you since Hogwarts. How are you?"

"I am doing quite well. How has life been treating you?" Marlene answered, glancing around the establishment. The pub was bright and airy, sunlight streaming in through the windows and illuminating the various tables and chairs. The floor was swept clean and bar was practically gleaming.

All of this, Marlene knew, would be different once night came and the placed filled up with its regular brand of customers.

"Can't complain," Esmie replied easily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. "But nothing much to report, I'm afraid. My life is rather bland."

Marlene sighed. At school, Esmie had been someone who was always quick to smile, quick to offer a kind word, quick to forgive and forget and move on. Perhaps it was her agreeableness that had made her so forgettable. She had blended into the background at Hogwarts, and had always seemed content to stay there.

That had apparently not changed. She was still good-natured and still quiet and still so easy to completely miss even when she was the only other person in the room.

She wasn't the type of person who would get swept up in intrigue, and it seemed cruel that she would now be in the position of having an old friend show up and ask her to turn on her boss.

But Marlene couldn't dwell on how unfair this all was. She had a job to do.

"I'm working for James Potter," Marlene said.

Instantly, Esmie's expression grew cautious and wary. Her face was carefully neutral, but her eyes kept darting around the room, looking for something.

Or someone.

"I take it you've heard of the Evans case?"

"Hasn't everybody?" Esmie replied softly, shrugging. "It's been in the _Daily Prophet_, after all."

"I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes about it?" Marlene asked. "About Mr. Ringleton's testimony. Did he mention it to you?"

"I knew that he was going to testify," Esmie answered. "I don't know the details of what he said besides what was reported in the _Prophet_ this morning."

"He spoke about an argument between Remus Lupin and Lily Evans on September 15th," Marlene answered. "He said you were here the night it happened."

"Yes…" Esmie agreed. "I was here on September 15th."

"And do you remember this argument?"

Esmie hesitated, chewing her lip. "It was so crowded. And Lonnie – the other barmaid – was sick so we were short staffed. I don't remember much from that night. I'm not sure I could say what did or did not happen."

"Are you sure?" Marlene pressed. "Your boss made it seem like it was quite a scene."

"We were crowded," Esmie said again.

"So you don't remember if Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans were present that night?"

Esmie turned and walked back to the table she had been cleaning. She snatched up her rag and started wiping down the surface of the table. She wouldn't meet Marlene's gaze as she said, "I don't remember much of anything. I can't say if they were there, and I can't say if they weren't. I'm sorry I can't be of any more help."

Marlene crossed over to the table as well. Leaning forward, she placed her hand on top of the rag, preventing Esmie from cleaning. She waited until the other witch had reluctantly looked up at her, and then she said gently, "You always told the truth at Hogwarts. You got yourself in trouble for it a few times, but you never lied when a professor asked you a question. Why are you lying to me now?"

Esmie pulled her hand away. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she answered, "This isn't Hogwarts anymore. The consequences are more than just a detention."

"Consequences of what? Of telling the truth?" Marlene demanded. "Lily Evans could lose her soul as punishment for a crime she didn't commit."

"Do you really think she's innocent?" Esmie retorted, flushing. She snatched her hand away from Marlene, leaving the rag on the table.

Marlene paused. How was she supposed to answer that question? She knew that James thought Evans was innocent, although Sirius clearly had his doubts. And until yesterday, she had agreed with Sirius and had been worried that James was not thinking clearly. But then the stranger had attacked James and given them so much information…

If even Voldemort's own followers didn't believe Evans was guilty of murdering Lupin, what could Marlene do but question her own assumptions of the redhead's guilt?

But it wasn't that straightforward. Evans had lied to them all along, and part of Marlene believed she was still lying. She knew more than she was saying, more than she was willing to reveal.

"I think," Marlene said finally, "she deserves a fair trial. One that does not involve people lying from the witness box to incriminate her. You are right; this isn't Hogwarts. The stakes are much higher here. For everyone, including her."

"You don't understand," Esmie protested. "She's not the only one who is in danger. I can't… I can't betray him like this. I can't tell you… if something were to happen to them because of me… I just can't…"

And she turned and hurried away from Marlene, disappearing behind the bar.

* * *

James knew it was likely impossibly rude of him to arrive unannounced at Frank Longbottom's home, but this was unfortunately not a conversation that he could risk having at the Ministry. He had no idea how many people would be on Lestrange's side, and if any of them overheard this, who knew what kind of damage would result? More than the case rested on his ability to find the truth in this mess of lies.

And Longbottom, James had decided, knew far more than he was saying.

If Frank was at all surprised to see James standing at his front door, he did not show it. His expression stayed calm as he stepped aside and invited the other wizard into his home, leading him through a corridor and into the parlor.

James glanced surreptitiously around. The room itself was crowded with miss-matched furniture. There were a few austere, hard-backed chairs and a plush sofa forming a semi-circle around a fireplace that looked as though it had not been used in years. The small table and chair in the corner of the room were lighted by a plain and simple lamp. And though nothing was by any means grimy, the room gave the feel of not having been cleaned lately.

It all lacked what James' mother would have called _a woman's touch_.

James looked at the mantle. There were several photographs of a round-faced witch that must have been Alice.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" Longbottom asked, gesturing for James to take a seat on one of the hard-backed chairs.

James sat down. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I've told you everything I know," Longbottom replied wearily. "And anything I forgot to tell you probably came out at the trial. I've already taken the stand, Mr. Potter, and told as much as I could."

"You spend a lot of time at your office," James said. It wasn't a question, but he hesitated all the same, waiting to see if Longbottom would say something in reply. But the Auror didn't, and James pressed on, "Work is very important to you."

"It is," Longbottom agreed.

"And yet you went out of your way to help me," James said. Longbottom raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and James elaborated, "You came to tell me when you were attacked at Lupin's home. Something you did not need to do. And you went back with me to help me sort through whatever clues I could find at the… crime scene. Again, that was not something you needed to do. In fact, helping me this much would make Lestrange less than pleased with you. And the amount of influence he has at the Ministry…"

He trailed off, waiting again for a response. He was still trying to figure out how exactly to ask the question he really wanted to ask. It would be blunt and unpleasant, and if Longbottom didn't already know the truth about who had been behind Alice's death, this question would cause more problems for both of them.

Longbottom frowned, his lips coming together into a straight line. But he remained silent.

"The only possible explanation I could think of was that you wanted to help me. You wanted me to win."

"Lily was my friend," Longbottom said simply.

James bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting angrily at that. Everything Longbottom had said or done seemed to indicate just how little he thought of Lily's friendship. He had not stood up for her during the intervening seven years after the last trial, had not spoken to her for three years, had not expressed even the slightest bit of concern when Lupin had disappeared on his mission and Lily had been so upset.

But it would do no good to bring that all up right now. He had come here for a different reason.

"Perhaps. But I saw your face during the trial when Lestrange was questioning you. I saw the way you looked at him. You despise him. And your hatred is personal."

Longbottom settled himself onto the sofa and folded his hands in his lap. There was a wariness in his gaze. "And what if it is?"

"Why do you dislike him so much?" James asked.

There was a tense silence, then Longbottom asked quietly, "What do you want me to say? What do you want to hear?"

James didn't answer. Instead, his eyes looked past Frank and focused on the photographs on the mantle. In all his interactions with Lily, the one thing that had remained the same through her dishonesty and lies was her determination to get justice for Lupin. And she had been willing to sacrifice anything necessary to see that aim through. She had valued friendship more than even her own life.

So why had she not fought harder to stay friends with Longbottom? Why had she not tried to track down Lupin?

Unless some part of her believed that they were safer without her in their lives.

Longbottom followed James' gaze and stared at the photographs as well. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he murmured, "We knew. All three of us. Remus, Lily, and I."

"You knew who had killed your wife," James asked quietly, needing confirmation.

Longbottom nodded. "And we knew why."

"Did you ever tell anyone?" James demanded. "Did you speak out against him?"

Longbottom shook his head. "It would have been my word against his. I didn't have proof, I didn't have evidence. I was a grieving widow. They'd all believe I was delusional with misery. I couldn't win against him, and I knew the cost of a fight."

"You can testify against him now," James said. "You can…"

"Really?" Longbottom interrupted immediately. "And what good would it do? It would be seen as a desperate attempt to paint Lestrange as evil and it would all be attributed to the fact that I was friends with Lily once. It wouldn't help you, and you _know_ that."

And James did know it. Having Longbottom speak out now would be perceived as nothing more than a cheap trick.

But that knowledge did not stop his frustration. How much different would everything be now if Lestrange had been held accountable for his actions four years ago? He had _murdered_ someone.

"Maybe if we could find proof," James said thoughtfully. "If we work together on this, we might be able to come up with a plan."

"Potter, I've had four years to think over everything that happened," Longbottom said, "and I have yet to find a solution. And believe me when I tell you that I am far more determined to bring him to justice than you are. Alice was my _wife_, remember?"

"You can't just give up. You can't keep this to yourself," James protested. "You need to fight back. If we don't stop evil, it will just keep spreading. I know what Lupin was, I know why he was living in poverty when he returned. Discrimination like that…"

"I'm an Auror," Longbottom cut in fiercely. "I _am_ fighting back. I _am_ stopping evil. But I'm doing it my way."

"The case doesn't look good for Lily," James said. "She's going to go to Azkaban. She might even lose her soul and I… I don't think I can stop it. I don't think I can win. Not without help."

"Lily's case was hopeless from the beginning," Longbottom answered. "And I've already told you that I can't help her. What can I say that would make any difference?"

James rose to his feet, frustrated and disappointed. "Fine," he snapped. "If you are so willing to give up, then I won't use up any more of your precious time."

"Merlin, Potter, don't act as though I'm the one in the wrong for simply pointing out reality," Longbottom shot back. "I am trying to help you as best I can. I told you about the person who attacked me, I took you back to Remus' home. I _want_ you to beat Lestrange. But accusing him of Alice's death is not the way to do it."

"Lily doesn't have many other options left," James argued. Going up against Lestrange on this was a foolish and desperate gamble, and it might only make things worse, but at this point he didn't know what else to do. He was running out of ideas.

"I can't help you with that," Longbottom said regretfully.

"She'll go to Azkaban! Hasn't she already suffered enough?" James demanded.

"Lily is not the only one who suffered these past seven years. And I am not the one who has been accused of murder. Twice."

James stalked from the room.

At the door, he paused and looked back. "What I don't understand, Auror Longbottom, is why you would be so willing to stand by and do nothing while Narcissa Malfoy and Lestrange ruin Lily's life. Shouldn't friendship mean more than that?"

"It isn't that simple," Longbottom answered angrily, spitting the words out through clenched teeth.

"Isn't it?" James responded bitterly. "But instead of taking her side then, you let her suffer. Just as you are doing now. You're willing to believe her guilty of killing Lupin even when you know she isn't."

"I'm helping you, aren't I?" Longbottom retorted furiously.

"For revenge on Lestrange," James pointed out coolly. "Not for Lily."

"I've already helped her once, and it cost me," Longbottom answered. He looked away from James, his expression conflicted. It was clear that there was more he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he could or if he should.

"You're the one who told me that Lily loved Lupin," James said. "That he made her happy. Tell me you really believe that Lily is capable of murder. Of murdering _him_."

"You really care about her, don't you?" Longbottom said softly, searching James' gaze thoughtfully. He smiled suddenly, a bittersweet expression. "Well, it is as I said. Everyone who meets Lily ends up loving her at some point."

"I'm just her counsel," James said sternly. He didn't want to think about the fact that his face was flushing, that heat was rushing to his cheeks. He didn't want to think about how true Longbottom's words were, how much he had found himself caring for the enigmatic redhead.

Longbottom smiled knowingly. "Sure you are."

James felt irrationally annoyed by the other wizard's expression, and said sharply and with more venom than he had intended, "At least I am doing something to help her."

"Alice is _dead_," Longbottom spat. "I helped Lily, and Alice is dead. Do you think it was just a coincidence that Lestrange targeted my wife?"

"You can't blame Lily for that," James countered, folding his hands over his chest and staring at Longbottom with disgust. How could he act as though Lily should be held accountable for Alice's death? How could he pretend that this was her fault? "You can't blame her for Lestrange's actions."

"I was Lily's alibi!"

"And would you have lied on the stand?" James demanded. "Would you have refused to testify for Lily? Would you have let her go to Azkaban for a crime she didn't commit?"

There was a long silence as Longbottom looked away from James. His eyes wandered about the entire room, desperately searching out something to give him answers. There was tension in every line of his body, and his expression was haunted, filled with painful memories.

James turned to leave. He had nothing more to say here.

"Did you ever even think about Muggleborns or part-humans before meeting Lily?" Longbottom called out suddenly.

James paused. The honest answer would be no. He was hardly a pureblood elitist, but he had also been woefully out of touch with the reality of the lives of people so less fortunate than him. He had had no idea that this subtle discrimination existed everywhere, and he had been unaware of the war brewing in the background.

He faced Longbottom again.

"You see the world as so black and white," Longbottom said. "You think you have all the answers. Yet you know that just a few weeks ago you were completely ignorant about some rather_ important_ aspects of this world. Do you really think you've now learned everything? Do you think you know enough about my relationship with Lily to understand why I can doubt her innocence? Do you think you know enough about Lily to believe her so perfect?"

"I never claimed to know everything," James defended himself.

Longbottom snorted. "You don't have to. It's obvious enough."

"Fine," James retorted in a clipped tone. "Then explain it to me. Tell me about your relationship with Lily. What did she do to deserve your suspicions?"

"Alice died," Longbottom murmured softly. "My Alice was killed by Rodolphus Lestrange because I had served as Lily's alibi. I had done quite a bit of damage to his case. I was a respected pureblood, and I had testified against him. And he killed Alice because of it."

He sat down, sinking onto the sofa. He looked suddenly so very tired and lonely.

"We didn't know at the time. There was no way Lily could have known what would happen. We knew Lestrange was arrogant and prejudiced, but we did not know he was a cold-blooded killer. But maybe we should have known. Maybe _she_ should have known."

"Even if you had known it, it still wouldn't have been Lily's fault," James argued.

"It was Lily who put me in that position," Longbottom said. "It was all Lily."

"But…" James started, but Longbottom cut him off.

"I lied."

"About what?" James asked, confused.

"The alibi," Longbottom admitted, and as he said the words, his entire body sagged in relief, as though a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders with that admission. "I lied about the alibi. Lily wasn't with me the night Malfoy was killed."

"I don't… I don't understand…" James stammered, even though he _did_ understand. Longbottom had been so skeptical of Lily's innocence in this present case. And he had been unable to stand by Lily over the course of the past seven years, not because he didn't care about her, but because…

He believed she was actually guilty of killing Malfoy.

"I don't know if she killed him, Potter," Longbottom continued, his voice flat. "I never asked. I never wanted to know the answer. But what I do know is that we both lied." His eyes adopted a far away look as his mind wandered back to that night. "Maybe a very small part of me blames Lily for Alice's death. But that isn't the real issue. Like I said, she never could have foreseen that. It was out of her control, it wasn't her choice. But asking me to lie for her? That _was_ her choice."

"And you did lie for her," James said bluntly. "You perjured yourself. You committed a crime."

"I tried to be a good person," Longbottom answered quietly. "I know right from wrong. Or, at least, I thought I did. But when one of your two best friends shows up at your door in the middle of the night and she's panicked and frightened and she tells you she needs an alibi… what was I supposed to do?"

* * *

_She stands there, terrified and unsure, and she can feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She can hear it, too, and wonders how it does not wake up everyone, how it does not fill the night air like the pounding of drums. The darkness closes in around her, and it is all she can do to push past the fear and the rushing of blood in her ears and bring her knuckles up to the wood of the door._

_She raps quickly, jerkily. She is worried, worried that he won't answer. Or that he will, and he'll somehow know what has happened, and he'll turn away from her. Will he see it in her eyes? The truth, who she is and what she has done? Will he know?_

_She does not have long to wait, though, and the door swings open. He steps out onto the porch and gazes at her for a moment, his eyes traveling the length of her body. She knows she looks disheveled, and the scratches on her face, the torn clothing… what must he think?_

"_Lily," he whispers, voice full of concern. "What happened? Are you alright? Who did this to you?"_

"_No one," she says, and then blinks and lowers her eyes. Why is she lying to him? She has come to ask for his help, to ask for a favor. She has come to ask him to do something for her, something she would never ask of anyone else._

_After all, who else does she have to ask? Not Remus. Definitely not Remus._

"_Frank," she says, and then stops. Shakes her head, starts again, "Frank, please… I… I need your help."_

"_What do you need?" he asks. "Whatever it is, of course I'll help."_

_He's so good and so sweet and so unassuming. He looks at her and believes that she is in trouble – and he is right about _that_, she is in trouble – but he does not even for a second think that perhaps she is not the victim in this tale. She wipes at her eyes, brushing away the tears that still linger there. If only he knew what she wanted. If only he knew what she is about to ask of him… would he still be so willing to help?_

_He looks around, apparently realizing abruptly that they are still standing in the doorway of his house and it is late, past midnight. He steps back and gestures for her to follow him into the warmth and light of the hallway. She does, moving slowly, tentatively._

_Hesitantly._

"_Lily," he says, his voice soft. Comforting. "Lily, please… you're starting to scare me. Tell me what happened."_

_She looks down at her hands. She feels, quite suddenly, like Lady Macbeth. Nothing can wash her hands clean, nothing can get out the spots that reveal her guilt._

"_Lily," he says again. "Lily, just tell me what you need."_

_She raises her eyes to meet his. "I need an alibi."_

* * *

He studied her as she entered the small room. She smiled at him, but her expression faltered as she caught the stormy emotions in his eyes. She sat down across from him, and waited.

James didn't know where to begin. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, answers he wanted to demand. He cast a silent spell, protecting the room from anyone who might be listening, and tried to get his thoughts in order. He was hardly ever tongue-tied, but this was proving to be the exception to the rule.

He couldn't find the right words.

"Ringleton was lying," Lily said finally, when James couldn't come up with anything to say. "None of that happened. None of it. Maybe if we had known ahead of time what he was going to say we could have…"

"How would we know ahead of time?" James interrupted, his tone hard and flat. "I'm not a particularly accomplished Legilimens."

Lily started, and then stared at him in bewilderment. Her eyebrows furrowed, lines appearing along her forehead. "I wasn't suggesting that," she snapped, the confusion quickly giving way to irritation. "But he _was_ lying."

"Perhaps," James said coolly. "But I had no idea that he was going to testify and no indication of what he might say, and I did the best that I could given the circumstances."

Lily's frown grew. "I never said you didn't," she argued. "But if this was a Muggle trial, you would have known…"

"This _isn't_ a Muggle trial," James cut her off. "_We_ are not Muggles."

And Lily stiffened at his words, dislike gleaming in her green eyes at his careless dismissal of Muggle traditions.

He thought briefly back to his conversation with Marlene and Sirius about that odd Muggle custom of disclosure. If they had followed that particular rule, he would have known ahead of time about Ringleton. But Lily had no reason to expect that this would happen in her case. Perhaps, as a Muggleborn who had not studied law in the wizarding world, it might have been understandable. But she had already been on trial once, had already witnessed the rules and customs of magical law.

"We don't have disclosure here," James added.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you even know about that," she said icily.

"I've heard of it," James said loftily. "Although I have to admit, I don't understand the point. Why should you be forced to reveal your hand ahead of time?"

"To ensure that each side had a chance to investigate it's opponents' claims and prepare for the trial accordingly," Lily answered. She looked down, tapping her fingers idly on the desk. "It is about equality. Fairness. Making sure that you have a level playing field. It means that one side cannot use its superior resources to its advantage in order to hide crucial information from the other side. It ensures that all the necessary evidence is included in the trial, and all the unfair or unlawful evidence is excluded at the beginning so that it doesn't _accidentally_ get spilled."

"Do you spend a lot of time thinking about disclosure?" James asked a bit snidely.

She met his gaze levelly. "I've had seven years to think about this legal system and how I would change it. Disclosure has its problems – a lot of them, actually – but the fundamental idea is a good one. Everyone deserves a fair chance, an equal chance. Everyone deserves justice, or as close to justice as we can reasonably give them."

"And tell me," James said, his words now positively glacial, "what did Lucius Malfoy deserve?"

Lily flinched briefly, and quickly averted her gaze. "I don't understand what Malfoy has to do with anything right now," she said firmly.

"I trusted you," James answered furiously. "I _believed_ you. And you lied to me."

"I've told you the reason for my lies in the beginning," Lily snapped defensively. "I didn't know if I could trust you and Remus had been so scared that I…"

"This _isn't_ about Lupin!" James seethed. "This is about Malfoy. This is about his death."

"I didn't kill him!" Lily shot back, jumping to her feet, face flushed with fury.

"Then why did you have Frank Longbottom lie for you?" James demanded.

Lily froze. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a circle. Shock was written all over her expression, as was hurt and simmering rage. But it wasn't any of those emotions that upset James.

It was the guilt.

It was crystal clear in her green eyes, and he couldn't help but look away as his heart plummeted. He had wanted to see bewilderment, confusion, denial. He had wanted Lily to tell him that it was all a misunderstanding, or even that Longbottom had been lying.

But she said none of those things.

Instead, she sat down hard.

"What did Frank tell you?" she asked in a whisper. And James thought perversely that at least she wasn't lying this time.

"That you asked him to be your alibi," James said. "That you weren't really with him the night Malfoy was killed. And he believes you're guilty. He said he never asked you because he didn't want to know the truth."

"James, I…"

Her use of _James_ instead of the more formal _Mr. Potter_ startled him, and it appeared to startle her, too. She stopped speaking quickly, and chewed her lip.

"Well?" James asked sharply. "Are you going to tell me what really happened that night?"

"Is it relevant?" Lily answered. "This trial isn't about Lucius Malfoy."

"It seems to me that this trial is entirely about Malfoy," James answered, thinking of the warning he had received from the strange wizard. Everything Lestrange was doing now was to make up for losing seven years ago.

"It doesn't matter! None of it matters. I didn't kill Remus, and that is what I am on trial for right now." She paused, and then added as an afterthought, "I was acquitted of killing Malfoy."

"But were you innocent?"

"I'm _not_ a murderer," Lily answered in a tone filled with passion and steel.

"Then why did you have Frank lie for you? Why didn't you tell the truth?" James inquired warily.

"I can't… I can't tell you… It's… complicated," Lily answered, stumbling over the words. "It's not just… it's more than… more people will be affected by it…"

She looked surprisingly close to tears. The steely façade she had worn through their first several conversations was slowly crumbling, and James did not know if it was because Lily was starting to trust him more, or if the trial was simply taking its toll on her.

He supposed it didn't really matter one way or another. Because right now this wasn't about Lily's trust of him. It was about his trust of Lily.

"Who else?" James demanded. "Who are you trying to protect?"

"I can't tell you," Lily repeated.

"How can I represent you when you won't be honest with me?" James snapped.

Lily glared at him. "I never asked for you to be my counsel," she replied, although her words lacked the usual venom. She was quiet, and the glare soon faded from her eyes. She stared down at the table between them, unable to say anything more in her defense.

There had been resignation in her tone. James knew that she was expecting him to walk away now. And he could. He could easily drop the case and leave her to fend for herself.

What reason was there to stay?

He rose to his feet.

Lily scrubbed at her eyes and said softly, "It doesn't matter. Don't you see that none of this matters?"

"It matters to Narcissa and Draco Malfoy," James replied.

Lily gave him a searching look, but said nothing. And he turned and walked from the room.


	15. Believe in Me

Chapter Fifteen: Believe in Me

Robert Ringleton was not a coward, and yet neither was he particularly brave. His job required him to come into contact with all sorts of people, but as long as they were only interested in his liquor and the use of his establishment, there was never a reason to be concerned about their presence. So it wasn't courage that allowed him to easily trade jokes with criminals; rather, it was the knowledge that none of them were actually going to hurt him.

Unfortunately, that had all changed.

And now a very angry wizard was standing before him.

"Mr. Black," Robert said patiently, trying his best to stay calm, "I really must insist that you refrain from charging into my bar and accusing me of… of whatever it is you think I have done."

Sirius Black's gray eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't think," he said. "I _know_. Esmeralda told me."

Robert raised his eyebrows at that. "Esmie? What did she tell you?" he asked sharply. There was no way that Esmie would have told Black anything damning. She understood what was at stake for him. She understood the consequences.

Black leaned forward, pressing his hands on the top of the bar and glaring furiously at Robert. "You lied. Everything you said on the stand was a _lie_," he spat.

Robert shook his head in denial. "No, it wasn't. It was the truth, all of it." He folded his arms over his chest and continued, "When did you speak to Esmie?"

Black hesitated, then answered coolly, "A friend of mine spoke to her earlier today. Before the pub opened. She was terrified. She wouldn't give us details, she was afraid of what would happen if she did. What did you threaten her with? How did you convince her to keep silent?"

His last words were laced with venom and disgust.

Robert looked away. The room was not yet crowded, but a few patrons had drifted in and taken spots along the bar or at the tables near the windows. Esmie was working quickly, moving in between the tables and taking orders with a bright smile and an occasional wink. She had yet to notice that Robert was being interrogated, yet to realize who it was who had entered the pub.

Robert looked back at Black. "Esmie doesn't _look_ scared," he replied pointedly.

And it was true. She was smiling, even laughing occasionally, and looking altogether relaxed and at ease. But he knew her well enough to see that underneath the veneer of cheerfulness, the girl _was_ worried. There was tension in her shoulders that wasn't usually there, and an occasional wariness in her gaze when she thought no one was looking.

Robert glanced at Black. There was no way that the other wizard would pick up on those subtle signs.

Black glowered in response, apparently not at all swayed by Robert's comment. "Why did you decide to side with Lestrange?" he asked in a low voice. "What did he offer you in return for your lies?"

"They weren't lies," Robert answered firmly, but with a bit of desperation in his voice. He was well aware of how he sounded, and some part of him wished he could come up with a better response. _Any_ response besides this pointless denial. Black wasn't going to believe him, no matter what he said.

"Was it wealth?" Black pressed, crowding into Robert's personal space. "I can't imagine you are in need of money. Unless…" he glanced around quickly, "you gambled it all away?"

"This has nothing to do with money!" Robert retorted, feeling frustrated. Why couldn't Black just leave it all alone? Didn't he know that he couldn't gain anything from this conversation?

"Then what was it?" Black cried, his voice suddenly louder. "What made you decide to turn on an innocent witch?"

The Hungry Hippogriff was abruptly incredibly quiet, and the few patrons all paused in what they were doing to look over at Robert and Black. Esmie, who had been flirting with an old, seedy looking wizard, glanced up sharply and took a few steps towards Robert.

But he held up his hand to stop her. He'd already gotten her involved once, purely by accident. He wasn't going to drag her into this again.

She hesitated, giving him a searching look, but then nodded once and stepped back.

Black had witnessed the entire exchange and gave a snort of disgust. "You won't even let her talk?" he demanded. "Maybe she has something she wants to say." And he whirled away, turning his back on Robert and marching towards Esmie.

Robert jumped forward, throwing out his arm and wrapping his fingers tightly around Black's shoulder. "Leave her alone," he hissed. "She's got nothing to do with any of this."

Black drew his wand. "Let go of me," he said in a low and deadly voice.

Robert dropped his arm and stepped back.

"Leave him alone!" Esmie cried suddenly, apparently deciding to ignore his previous request. She darted forward, placing herself between Robert and Black. "Can't you see that what you're doing is wrong?"

Black stared at her, the disbelief in his expression quickly switching to anger. "_I'm_ wrong?" he spat. Gesturing towards Robert, he said furiously, "He's willing to send an innocent woman to Azkaban. He's willing to threaten you to keep your mouth shut about it. And I am just trying to figure out the truth, so how can you say that I'm wrong?"

"Threaten me?" Esmie demanded incredulously. "What are you talking about? Mr. Ringleton hasn't threatened me. He hasn't done _anything_."

"He lied on the stand! He committed perjury! He conspired with Lestrange to send Lily Evans to prison…" He was waving his wand around in a dangerous manner, and his eyes darted back and forth between Esmie and Robert. The blonde witch's own eyes had widened in obvious fear as she stared at his wand, and Robert felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"Esmie, get out of here," Robert said in a low voice. He was not going to allow her to get hurt, not on his account.

"So you're going to protect her but not Evans? Evans is expendable?" Black demanded.

Robert drew himself up to his full height and pulled Esmie behind him, away from Black. "She's my employee. I am responsible for her safety while she is on my premises," he said firmly, unwilling to let Black see how terrified he was of the other wizard.

How had this all spiraled so far out of control?

"Just tell me why," Black said evenly, lowering his wand so that it was pointing directly at Robert's chest. "Tell me why you are so willing to let Lestrange win. Or are you actually on his side? Are you one of Voldemort's followers?"

"Who?" Robert asked, blinking in confusion. He didn't recognize the name.

"_Answer me_!"

"Lestrange threatened him," Esmie blurted out, seemingly no longer able to keep the truth a secret. Not when it was putting her bosses life in danger.

Black faltered. "What?"

Now that Esmie had uttered the truth, the rest of the words just seemed to pour from her lips. They rushed together and she scrambled to get it all out, her wide eyes still fearful, still fixed to Black's face.

"Lestrange came in the other day and told Mr. Ringleton that if he didn't testify against Lily Evans, he would lose his family. Lestrange threatened to kill them. He said he knew that all you would have to do to get people to question Evans' guilt was have her and Frank Longbottom both testify about how much she loved Lupin. He said he needed to _prove_ her guilt He said all her arguments with Lupin had been about trying to keep him safe, and Lestrange needed something more than that. He needed someone to testify about an argument where Evans threatened Lupin, and he wanted Mr. Ringleton to do it. And he was going to kill Mr. Ringleton's family if he didn't agree. And I accidentally overheard the conversation, I didn't mean to, but I did. And Lestrange said if I told anyone, he'd kill my parents. And my Mum's a Muggle, she can't defend herself against him, and I just… I was scared and I didn't know what else to do but keep quiet."

And she promptly burst into tears.

A sudden, stunned silence met her words. Black slowly lowered his arm and pocketed his wand. The expression on his face was a mixture of pity and antipathy as he stared at Esmie. Then he lifted his eyes and met Robert's gaze, silently asking a question.

Robert nodded once, confirming the truth of Esmie's words, and Black's lips thinned into a straight line.

Robert sighed and rubbed his eyes before looking around in apprehension. The entire altercation had just been witnessed by the patrons of his pub, and there was no way to take back all the words that had been said.

* * *

"Did you see this? This is great!" Sirius exclaimed as he tossed the _Daily Prophet_ onto James' desk. James glanced at it wearily, not particularly interested in whatever it was Sirius had found.

The first headline caught his eye. _BARTENDER ADMITS TO LYING IN MURDER TRIAL._ He flipped the page, found another headline. _SUSPICION FALLS ON LESTRANGE FOR WITNESS TAMPERING._ The Sirius placed a copy of the _Quibbler_ on top of the _Daily Prophet_, and James read the headline on that one as well: _EVANS GUILT QUESTIONED._

"It's perfect, mate," Sirius said, grinning wildly.

James frowned as he glanced over the article. "What happened?" he asked slowly.

"I meant to tell you last night," Sirius replied, "but didn't get a chance. I had to talk to Dumbledore, you know. Since you wanted me to tell him about everything you had learned."

James waved his hand impatiently, gesturing for Sirius to get to the point.

"I went to see Ringleton, confronted him at his pub. He admitted to lying on the stand, and Esmie told me the whole thing. That Lestrange had threatened them both if they didn't do what he wanted."

"And someone in the pub overheard the conversation," James finished with a nod, feeling a spark of interest. Although he had certainly suspected all along that Ringleton was lying, he hadn't known exactly how they would prove it. But now maybe they did not even have to address the issue on the stand. Enough members of the Wizengamot would read the newspaper and be suspicious.

"More than just one person," Sirius replied. "There were a lot of people. Enough that the argument ended up in both the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_."

James nodded as he accepted this, but then shook his head and pushed the newspapers away. "Just because Ringleton was lying, it doesn't mean that Evans is innocent."

Sirius' eyebrows rose at that comment. "It's back to Evans now, is it?" he asked suspiciously. "Tired of calling her Lily?" He folded his arms over his chest and regarded James with a searching stare. "When did _you_ start doubting her innocence?"

James ran a hand through his hair and gave a shaky sigh. "She's lying, Sirius. All she does is lie. I'm getting tired of it. I can't defend her. I can't… I don't know. I think maybe she actually did kill him."

"You think she killed Lupin?" Sirius demanded incredulously, clearly unable to believe what he was hearing. "What happened?"

James hesitated, then said, "I talked to Longbottom. I wanted to ask him about his wife, about her death."

Sirius' eyes narrowed. "You wanted to ask if he knew that Lestrange killed her," he surmised.

"Yeah," James agreed. "Turns out Longbottom did know. He's known for a while, maybe he knew all along. He, Evans, Lupin… they all knew."

Sirius shrugged. "Yeah. So he knew. So they all knew. So what? How does that change anything?"

"Lestrange killed her as revenge against Frank Longbottom. He was Evans' alibi in the trial, you know, and he did a lot of damage to the prosecutor's case. Lestrange wasn't happy about it." James closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Lily's face as she looked up at him, pleaded with him to just forget the past. How could she not understand that this mattered to him? He couldn't just let it go.

"James?"

James expelled a sharp breath and looked up at Sirius. "It was a lie. The alibi. Longbottom told me, Evans admitted to it. She wasn't with him the night Malfoy was killed."

Sirius' mouth fell open. He stared at James for a moment in wordless shock, then said, "You think she actually killed him? Malfoy, I mean."

"Yes. No. I don't know. Longbottom certainly thinks she did."

James pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He started pacing as best he could in the small space, unable to completely contain the nervous energy building up inside him. Even if Lily hadn't killed Malfoy, she at least knew something about how the wizard had died. Or else why would she have needed the alibi? Why wouldn't she have simply told the truth about where she was?

He had thought through several different scenarios during the night. He hadn't gotten much sleep, and had finally given up and gotten out of bed some time in the middle of the night. But sitting by his fireplace, holding a mug of tea between his hands, had not offered him any real solutions.

There was one possibility that he kept clinging to, one possible explanation that he desperately wanted to be true. Not that Lily was in any way involved in Malfoy's death, but that she had known that she would be blamed for it and had needed a better alibi than the one she had.

But if that was true, how could she have gone to Longbottom for help the very night that Malfoy was killed? The only way that made sense was if she had known almost immediately that he was dead, and how could she have known that unless someone had told her?

Or she had witnessed it.

Or had actually killed him herself.

"You thought she was guilty at the beginning," Sirius said after a long pause. James glanced at Sirius, confused, and the other wizard continued, "You thought she was guilty of kill Lupin, but you didn't give up. You didn't decide not to defend her. You didn't care this much. So why do you care now?"

James ran a hand through his hair again, messing it up, and tried to think of a good answer. He knew exactly why it bothered him so much now, but he didn't really want to admit the truth to Sirius.

He had a feeling he would never live it down.

But the truth was, he had started to admire Lily. Respect her. Maybe even fancy her. Longbottom had been right about that much.

He hadn't cared about her innocence or guilt back when they first met because she had meant nothing to him. She had merely been just another client, and he had been much more concerned about beating Lestrange than about helping her. But that had slowly changed. Her earnest demeanor on those rare occasions when she was being honest, as well as her obvious devotion to Lupin and her desire to get justice for him, had somehow worked away at James' defenses.

He actually cared about her now.

And that made it so much harder to find out that she had been lying to him all along. And that she probably was a murderer, despite what she kept insisting and what the Wizengamot had agreed upon years ago.

She had disappointed him. She had let him down.

She had fooled him.

Sirius finally appeared to grow tired of waiting for an answer and said irritably, "What does it really matter, anyway?"

James blinked and stared hard at his friend. "It matters to me."

"But this isn't about Evans," Sirius replied heatedly. "It's about Lestrange. It's about stopping this Voldemort. Whether or not Evans killed Malfoy seven years ago is irrelevant to the issue now. And if she did… well, that's bloody well good for her. Or did you _forget_ what Malfoy was going to do to our world?"

James looked up, surprised. He hadn't thought about the possibility that Lily knew of Malfoy's involvement with Voldemort and his followers. If she had killed him, was it possible that she had done it on Dumbledore's instructions?

But no… Dumbledore would have told him if that were the case.

"Focus on Voldemort," Sirius continued. "You have to beat Lestrange. You have to stop him. Evans doesn't matter. She just doesn't."

James nodded slowly. Just a day ago he had come to the conclusion that the world was going to war and he needed to pick a side.

Sirius was right. This wasn't about Lily. It wasn't about Malfoy or Lupin. It wasn't even really about Lestrange.

It was about Voldemort.

The world was going to war, and James had already picked his side.

* * *

Sethos Avery settled himself into the witness box without even glancing in James' direction. He stared instead at the Wizengamot, his gaze primarily resting on Alistair Bones. He looked almost bored by the entire proceedings, but James did notice that the one time Avery caught Lestrange's eye, he gave a wolfish smile.

He had a blockish build, with broad shoulders and a square chin. He exuded physical, although not magical or mental, strength. But despite the fact that he would be more readily labeled as brawny than brainy, beneath the veneer or tedium, his expression was shrewd and almost calculating.

James glanced over at Lily. She was sitting in the defendant's chair, the chains wrapped tightly around her arms. She wasn't looking at him, wasn't looking at anything in particular. Her gaze was unfocused.

But, surprisingly, her eyes were rimmed with red.

James almost leaned over to ask if she had been crying. But then he stopped himself. He didn't want to start a conversation with her in this courtroom. He had to keep his composure if he was to find a way to poke holes in Avery's testimony. It seemed unlikely that he would be graced with the same fortune twice, and so he could not hope that Avery would admit to lying in a crowded pub the way Ringleton had.

Marlene was at his side. She had asked no questions upon arriving at the courtroom, but James could tell by the way she looked at both him and Lily that Sirius had repeated their conversation for her. She clearly knew all of what had happened.

James forced a smile for her benefit, then turned his attention to Avery.

Lestrange had started the questioning.

"Please state your name and occupation," Lestrange said briskly.

"Sethos Avery," Avery replied. "I work at the Ministry in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement."

"Are you an Auror?" Lestrange asked.

"No," Avery answered with a smirk, "just a bureaucrat." It was clearly an answer that he had given frequently in response to questions about his occupation and, as expected, it garnered several chuckles from the audience. A few camera bulbs flashed, taking his picture, and several reporter's quills scratched against scrolls of parchment.

"How long have you known the defendant, Mr. Avery?"

Avery looked at Lily. "Since Hogwarts. She was in the same year as me. She was a Gryffindor, though, and I was a Slytherin, so I didn't know her well."

"And did you know the deceased?" Lestrange asked.

"Remus Lupin? Sure, Lupin was also in our year at Hogwarts. Also in Gryffindor. He and Evans were friends, but I didn't know him that well."

"But he and the defendant were friends?"

"Sure," Avery said with a shrug. "They were together all the time. I rarely saw one without the other at Hogwarts."

"And can you tell me what happened on September 16th?" Lestrange asked. As he spoke, he glanced over one shoulder at James, and his eyes were filled with loathing.

James merely smiled back.

"I had to meet with a few people – something worked related, and I won't bore you with all the details of it – and was passing by Lily Evans' home. I did not know it was her home at the time, of course, but I learned that later," Avery said, shifting his gaze from Lestrange to Lily. "Anyway, as I was passing by, a man came running out. I recognized him as Remus Lupin, though he did look rather sick."

"Mr. Lupin came out of the defendant's home?" Lestrange said softly. "And then what happened?"

"He paused and looked over his shoulder. He seemed upset… and very scared. I approached him and asked if everything was alright. I asked if he needed help. I recognized him, and knew that he was a wizard, so I told him that I worked for the Ministry, for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I thought maybe he would trust me."

"Did he tell you what was wrong?" Lestrange pressed.

Avery shook his head, looking away from Lily. Focusing his attention back on Lestrange, he explained "Not exactly. He said that she was being completely unreasonable and he never should have come. He was shaking with fear as he said it, and I was concerned, but I didn't understand what he was talking about. I asked him if he could tell me any more, and he said that she would come after him if she knew and he needed to get away from her."

"Did he say who this _she_ was?" Lestrange questioned.

"No, but he kept looking at Miss Evans's home," Avery replied.

"And then what happened?"

"He said he had to go, and he ran off. It was all very odd."

"No further questions," Lestrange said, directing his attention to the Wizengamot. Then, with a brief look at James, he said, "Your witness."

James glanced at Lily. He half expected her to be arguing with him, to deny that any of this had happened. But she didn't. In fact, she did not seem to even notice his scrutiny. She was simply gazing at Avery, her expression thoughtful.

James sighed and walked forward.

"Mr. Avery," he said, "was there anyone else around when you had this supposed conversation with Mr. Lupin?"

Avery narrowed his eyes. "No, it was just me," he said coolly. "And Mr. Lupin, of course. But he can't testify, given that he's dead." And here he paused long enough to give Lily a pointed look.

"I see. And what business was it that you were dealing with that morning, Mr. Avery?" James asked politely.

"It isn't really important to this issue," Avery answered. "It was work-related."

"But what work does a Ministry official have in that area?" James asked skeptically. "As you said, you are not an Auror. Why would a bureaucrat need to meet anyone away from the Ministry? Don't you have offices for that sort of thing?"

"We do," Avery answered, "but this was… sensitive. The people I was meeting with did not want to come to the Ministry."

"Why would law-abiding citizens not wish to come to the Ministry?" James pressed, feeling an advantage and intending to make full use of it.

Avery looked a little surprised by this line of questioning, and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. But his voice was steady and his words were firm as he answered, "People avoid the Ministry for many reasons. There are a lot of reporters there, and sometimes they don't want to be seen. Particularly if they are giving us any kind of sensitive information."

"Information that is _conveniently_ too sensitive for you to won't it to us now," James said sarcastically. "So you cannot provide a satisfactory reason for why you were near Ms. Evans' home that morning?"

"Objection!" Lestrange snapped, jumping to his feet.

"Sustained," Bones said, his voice practically a growl, not bothering to hear Lestrange's argument for why he had objected.

James glanced up at the Wizengamot bench. If everything his mysterious informant had said was true, if Bones was also working for Voldemort and if Lupin had really stolen something that Voldemort desperately wanted back, then Bones clearly had an interest in the outcome of this trial. He clearly needed Lily to be convicted, or else his own credibility would be questioned just as Lestrange's reputation had been damaged seven years ago.

Bones dislike of Lily went far beyond her blood status or his own friendship with Bellatrix Lestrange. If she was guilty of killing Malfoy, then she had ruined quite a few plans that involved Bones and Voldemort's bid to take over the wizarding world.

James glanced back at Avery. Bones might have insisted that he stopped this line of questioning, but at least he had planted some doubt in the minds of the other Wizengamot members.

Would that be enough?

"Do you have any more questions, Mr. Potter?" Bones asked dryly.

"Just one," James replied. "Mr. Avery, can you describe Miss Evans home for me?"

Avery's eyes widened. "Describe?"

"Yes. Does she live in a flat or a house? What color is the outside? Is there a garden?"

"I don't… I don't remember," Avery answered. "I wasn't really paying attention to those details. Didn't know that I was going to have to testify. Didn't know that Lupin was going to be murdered."

"I see," James said. He paused, then asked delicately, "But you can't even recall if Miss Evans lives in a flat or a house? Surely _that_ is a detail you would have noticed."

"I don't remember," Avery said stubbornly.

James smiled. "Of course you don't," he said sarcastically, then nodded his head towards the Wizengamot on their raised platform. "No further questions."

* * *

"I'm surprised," Lily said upon entering the small room and taking her customary seat across from James. "I assumed that you had resigned as my counsel. You certainly indicated a desire to do that yesterday."

James bit back the urge to snap a reply and said instead, "If everything you have told me about Lupin is true, then figuring out why he was killed may provide information that will help us stop Voldemort. _That_ is what matters to me."

Lily studied him for a moment. "You don't think I killed him," she said finally.

James hesitated. "I have not completely ruled out the possibility, but I do admit that it seems unlikely. I am hesitantly accepting your innocence… at least in _this_ death."

Lily flinched and looked away. "I see," she murmured.

"And I am surprised at you," James continued, feeling the need to talk, to fill up the room with words. Silences were dangerous around Lily, she seemed to have an uncanny knack for using them to convey some emotion that would lodge itself under his skin.

"Why?" Lily asked.

"I expected you to burst in here and insist that Avery was lying," James said, "as you did with Ringleton."

Lily licked her lips. "I don't know if he is lying or not. I can hardly account for all of Remus' movements on the day he was killed. Although I assure you, he had no reason to be afraid of me, so his behavior in that regard would make no sense." She paused, then added softly, "But Avery was right about him visiting me the morning he was killed."

"Yes," James said. "You mentioned that."

He wasn't sure what to think of that bit of information. He was almost positive from the testimony that Avery had not witnessed any of what he had reported; that, in fact, he had never been to Lily's home. But he had been right about Lupin's presence there, and that was disconcerting.

But Lily had told him that Lupin was convinced that he was being followed. Was it possible, then, that whoever _had_ followed Lupin had reported the information to Lestrange? But if so, why had they not testified themselves instead of placing Avery on the stand and having him lie?

And was the person who had followed Lupin also the one who had killed him?

"Are you sure he wasn't afraid of you?" James asked finally. "Lupin, I mean. Are you sure the two of you did not quarrel when he visited you? You didn't threaten him?"

"Of course not!" Lily seethed. "I would never…"

"Hurt him," James finished for her. "Yes, I know. You've said that before. Of course, you also insisted that you didn't kill Lucius Malfoy, and I am having a hard time believing that."

"Can't you just leave Malfoy out of this?" Lily cried in frustration. "Why do you keep brining him up?"

"Why do you keep lying to me?" James retorted angrily. "How much longer is it going to take before you tell me the actual truth? What more do I have to do to convince you that I am on your side?"

"Are you on my side now?" Lily shot back. "Because you seem to have left it completely."

"I am interested in stopping Voldemort," James replied evenly, forcing himself to stay calm. "I assume you are interested in the same thing. We are therefore on the same side."

"Fine," Lily snapped. "We're on the same side. _Great_." She folded her arms over her chest and looked away from him. "I never threatened Remus and I certainly didn't kill him."

"Did you know that Malfoy was posed to become the next Minister?" James asked.

Lily stared at him, her mouth partially open.

"Did you know that Lestrange was supposed to take over the Wizengamot?" James continued, the words pouring from his lips. "Did you know that Rookwood was to be the head of St. Mungo's? That Voldemort had planned it all, that he wanted to take over those three institutions before starting his war? That Malfoy's death and Lestrange's inability to convict you of the murder stopped all that?"

He wanted to see how she would react, and the stunned look on her features was enough to convince him that she did not know all those details.

But then she said, "I knew what type of person Malfoy was. I knew what he wanted to do with the world. I didn't know the rest of it, though. At least not the details."

"Did you know that Voldemort ordered Lupin's death?" James demanded.

"I… no… I didn't…" Lily stammered, surprised by the onslaught of his words. She stopped speaking and silently shook her head, staring at him in confusion and wonder. "Voldemort ordered Remus' death?" she asked at last, her voice quiet.

"So I have been lead to believe," James said, thinking back to the confrontation in the alley and all that he had learned there. Then he gaze Lily a pointed look and added, "But I've been lied to before."

"Ringleton was lying completely," Lily said, ignoring James' last comment, "and Avery was at least lying about Remus being afraid of me."

"Why should I believe you?" James asked.

"You just said that Voldemort ordered Remus' death!" Lily cried out. "So how can you also accuse me of killing him?"

"I don't know what to believe," James answered. "I don't know how I can trust a single thing you say."

Lily shook her head frantically, as though she could somehow erase his words. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, practically begging him.

"Just tell me the truth!" he answered furiously. "I've read the articles, Lily, and knowing that Longbottom was lying about your alibi, I don't know what to think besides that you killed Malfoy! And I want to believe that you're innocent, I do! But… Merlin, you argued with him at St. Mungo's just _days_ before he was killed. You slapped him and said you would make him regret everything. Or do you expect me to believe that that testimony was a lie as well?"

"Stop acting like Malfoy is some innocent…" Lily started, and then stopped and shook her head, looking away. "He wasn't a good person, Mr. Potter. He just wasn't! But that doesn't mean that I plotted to kill him!"

"Then what were you arguing about?"

"He knew! He knew what Remus was and he was going to tell everyone," Lily answered, spitting out the words. "Don't you see? He would have ruin _everything_ Remus had tried so hard to build for himself."

"He knew?"

"Yes… yes…" Her eyes were suddenly watery, and James was reminded of the way they had been rimmed with red that morning, of the indication that she had been crying during the previous night. "It's why we argued."

"What happened?" James pushed fervently. He was finally getting some kind of answer, and he knew that it wouldn't help him figure out the details of Lupin's death and that it would offer any aid in winning this present case, but he couldn't stop himself from needing to hear what Lily was going to say. He couldn't even explain the desire to himself, all he knew was that now that she was finally talking about what had happened with Malfoy, he wasn't going to stop her.

"I was talking to Narcissa. I wanted her to think about everything. I tried to tell her that she needed to leave Malfoy. She needed to take her son and just _go_. But she wouldn't listen. And then he came and interrupted the conversation. And Narcissa went off to talk with Augustus Rookwood and Malfoy told me… he told me…"

"Yes?" James prompted eagerly.

"He told me that he knew that Remus was a werewolf. I don't know how he figured it out, but he was actually _gleeful_ when he told me. He said he would tell everyone. He would make sure that Remus never had work anywhere in England ever again. He'd ruin his life…"

"So you slapped him and yelled that if he did that you would make him regret it," James said, remembering what the article had reported about the witness testimony.

Lily nodded and whispered, "Yes." The tears were falling from her eyes, making tracks down her cheeks. She looked so tired and so vulnerable and so unlike the composed and collected version of herself that had addressed James on so many other occasions.

James had to fight the urge to reach out and hug her. He wanted so much to show his support and offer his comfort. Just looking at her crying was breaking his heart.

But he had to stay firm. He had to get the whole story. He couldn't let Lily get under his skin.

"I avoided Remus for the next two days. I didn't want to tell him, I didn't want to worry him. I kept trying to figure out what I could do to stop this, to stop Malfoy. I thought about talking to Narcissa again. I thought maybe she could reason with her husband. But she didn't know what Remus was, and I couldn't tell her. There was no guarantee she wouldn't turn on him herself. I didn't know what to do, so I just… I avoided Remus. I avoided Frank and Alice. I just… I was just _scared_. He had always threatened to ruin my life, but now he was going after Remus, too. And he wasn't the only one…"

James inhaled sharply, remembering other parts of the articles he had read. "The Lestranges…"

"Bellatrix and Rodolophus Lestrange threatened me," Lily said. "They knew that I was trying to get Narcissa to leave Malfoy, and they threatened… they said they would kill me. They said they would cause suffering and misery to me and to the people that I loved if I didn't leave Narcissa alone. And Malfoy knew that Remus was a werewolf so it was only a matter of time before he told them, and… and I couldn't let Remus or Frank or Alice get hurt. But how could I just give up on Narcissa? She was better than Malfoy. She _was_."

"But what did you do? Why did you need the alibi?"

"The night he died, I went to the Cavorting Chimaera by myself," Lily whispered. "I don't usually go to pubs alone, but I was still avoiding everyone, and I just… I needed to think. But Malfoy was there, and he kept smirking at me, he kept… he would give me these looks and I… He was getting so drunk, and I needed to get away from him, so I left. He was still there when I left, and I think Narcissa had come to join him…"

She broke off and reached up to scrub away the tears that filled her eyes.

"And then?" James asked gently. "What happened next, Lily?"

Lily looked at him, and he could see the indecision in her eyes. It was clear that she wanted to tell him something, and equally clear that she wasn't sure if she should.

He felt his own temper flare. When would she learn to trust him?

"Tell me!" he snapped, his words more of an order than a request.

Her own temper rose as well, and she spat, "I killed him. Is that what you want to hear, Potter? I killed him! I killed Lucius Malfoy. It's what you've believed, it's what everyone has believed. And they were _right_. Are you happy now?"


	16. The Truth Won't Set You Free

Chapter Sixteen: The Truth Won't Set You Free

_She wanders aimlessly, exhausted and scared from the events of the past few days. Malfoy knows what Remus is, and that terrifies her more than anything. She doesn't know how he's learned the truth, but it doesn't really matter. She knows what he plans to do with it, and the very thought of it makes her sick._

_But she doesn't know what to do. Does she tell Remus? How can she do that to him, how can she worry him with this? There is nothing either of them can do, so can she really bring herself to add yet another burden to his too-thin shoulders? And yet, it is his life, and he has a right to know that Malfoy knows._

_She continues to wander. She cannot face Remus now, which was why she was at the pub by herself. But Malfoy was there, and his presence had only made things worse._

_She knows, intellectually, that she should be cold. The night air is chilly, and a strong wind rushes through the branches of the trees. But the faint haze of alcohol-induced stupor had fallen over her, and she can only smile faintly, numb. The alcohol has given her a brief respite from her fears, and maybe for these few minutes, she'll have peace of mind._

_She knows it is close to midnight, she has been walking for nearly an hour. She should go home, go to sleep. Face these problems tomorrow._

_But then she hears the footsteps on the ground behind her, and turns, surprised. The pleasant humming in her mind is gone abruptly, replaced by a vicious, all-consuming hatred for the man who appears before her, moonlight glistening off his white-blonde hair. He pauses when he looks at her, surprise widening his eyes, and then a sneer twists his lips._

"_Evans," he spits._

_And then, before she can react, he is closing the space between them, looming over her. She shrinks back quickly, then tries to summon her courage. But she's still dizzy, and the world is fuzzy and moving in slow motion._

"_You went to Narcissa," Malfoy growls, shoving her backwards. She stumbles but stays upright and easily side-steps his next attempt to push her to the ground._

"_Malfoy, what you talking about?" she asks sharply, trying frantically to clear her head, but she can't think, can't understand anything. Why is he here? Why is standing so close to her, close enough that she can smell the alcohol on his breath?_

_Is he drunk, too?_

"_You spoke to Narcissa. You told her what I was doing. She asked me about it, she wanted… she listened to you. To you! You're nothing. Trash. Mudblood. And she… she _listened_…"_

_He grabs her wrist and she pulls backwards, tripping over herself. She is willing her body to move, but it won't obey her commands, and the rush of oxygen that suddenly leaves her lungs only serves to heighten her panic. She feels the hot burning in her eyes again, and more pain as his grip on her wrist tightens, wrenching her arm the wrong way._

_She fumbles for her wand with her free hand, relief flooding through her as her fingers close around the slim wood. She brings the wand up quickly, fiercely, but the red light that bursts from the tip does nothing to stop Malfoy. He does not even seem to notice the blood on the side of his face._

"_You filth," he snarls. "You're always acting like you're better than everyone else, but you're not. You're nothing, nothing at all."_

_She sucks in a breath and tries to pull away from him again, but his body is pressed against hers, his warm breath on her face and neck. The hand holding her wrist moves, and her arm is brought up in front of her, pressed against her chest. His other hand rests on her shoulder, and then slides down towards her stomach, and…_

_And suddenly she is completely sober._

_She can't form a single coherent thought save for the overwhelming need to get away from him. Need to get away from this place, from his hands on her skin, from the smell of smoke that lingers in the air and brings up bile in her throat._

_She kicks him, hard. He groans and releases her, and she brings her wand up again, ready to attack, ready to protect herself, ready to do whatever is necessary to get away from him._

_The clock on the distant tower strikes midnight._

_He backhands her and she falls, her wrist hitting the ground, the watch shattering. He stands over her, comes to his knees at her side, reaching out towards her with a look of pure malice in his eyes, and she lifts her wand and says the spell and a flash of green illuminates his face moments before he collapses to the ground._

* * *

James leaned back in his seat and studied Marlene's expression as she slowly digested everything he had told her. It was clear that she was shocked by Lily's confession, but there was also a puzzled look in her eyes, as though something did not quite make sense.

James tapped his quill against the scroll of parchment in front of him. The following morning would begin his own list of witnesses as the defense presented its case. And he knew he should be focusing on that, but it was hard to think of anything at all when he kept seeing Lily's pale face and flashing eyes floating in his mind.

"What do you think?" he asked after a long silence.

Marlene let out a breath. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I… didn't Evans tell you that she was protecting someone?"

James blinked, confused. "When?"

"The first time you confronted her after Auror Longbottom had told you about the fake alibi. She said that she couldn't tell you why she needed an alibi because it wasn't just her secret to tell. It affected other people."

James nodded slowly, a bit surprised that Marlene knew all that. After all, he had not spoken directly to Marlene about that conversation. But he had told Sirius, and clearly Sirius had repeated everything to the witch. And Marlene, with her attention to detail that made her so well suited for the job of his assistant, was now focusing on every tiny thing Lily had said.

James sighed. "She must have meant Lupin."

"But that doesn't make sense," Marlene countered. "Lupin is dead, and you already knew that he was a werewolf. So what would be stopping her from telling you everything? Why would she feel the need to protect him any further?"

"So maybe she was lying," James suggested bitterly. "Maybe she wasn't protecting anyone but herself."

Marlene frowned, but didn't say anything, and James thought back to the story Lily had told. It was clear from her explanation that she had been acting in self defense, and equally clear that she would have been convicted without any hesitation if she had told the Wizengamot what really happened. Was that enough justification for lying?

Marlene reached across James suddenly and pulled open one of the desk drawers where she had kept the articles and court transcripts pertaining to Malfoy's death that she had gathered when James first agreed to be Lily's counsel. She pulled several of them out and set them on the desk, scanning through them briefly.

"What happened to Evans' wand?" she asked finally.

James glanced at her. "What?"

"Her wand," Marlene pressed. "It was missing. That was one of the major concerns at the trial, that they didn't have the wand so they couldn't use the prior incantation spell to see if she had killed anyone recently. So what did she do with it? She didn't explain that, did she?"

"She must have destroyed it," James answered carelessly. "Anyone with any sense would do that immediately."

Marlene nodded, but didn't look convinced. "How did she get the scratches on her face?"

"What?"

Marlene pulled out one of the court transcripts and handed it to James. "When she was arrested, she had scratches on her face. She told the Wizengamot that she had been clumsy, but Lestrange claimed that Malfoy had tried to fight her off. So how did she really get them? She didn't mention that in her story to you."

"Malfoy attacked her," James answered. "He must have scratched her then."

"She described to you in vivid detail what Malfoy did," Marlene answered softly. "But she didn't mention anything about that, did she?"

James hesitated, thinking back to everything Lily had told him. And he couldn't remember her ever stating that Malfoy had scratched her. Given all the other details she had provided, leaving that out seemed rather odd. But perhaps it had simply slipped her mind. Or perhaps she had forgotten. It was seven years ago, and she had spent the last several days in Azkaban. The prison fortress did odd things to a person's mind.

Marlene ran a hand through her hair, studying the transcript thoughtfully. "Her watch was broken at seven minutes after midnight. But in her story, it broke at midnight. So what happened to the seven minutes?"

"Maybe her watch was fast," James suggested. "Lena, why are you looking for holes in what she said?"

"Because she has spent a lot of time lying to you, and I'm not sure she's being honest, now," Marlene answered. "What did she say Malfoy was yelling at her when he attacked?"

"Stuff about her blood status."

"No, I meant… what was he saying about Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Oh." James furrowed his brow, remembering. "That Lily had gone to Mrs. Malfoy and told her what he was doing."

Marlene chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "But she had been doing that all along," she said slowly. "By both Evans' and Narcissa Malfoy's testimony, she had spent years trying to convince Narcissa to leave her husband. So… why would Malfoy be so upset about it then? What had changed? What did Evans say that was any worse than what she had already said?"

"That's a reach, Lena," James said. "And when did you become such a defender of Lily's innocence?"

Marlene shook her head. "That's not what I'm saying. I think Evans killed Malfoy. There are too many parts of her story that match perfectly with what we know about Malfoy's death to assume she made it all up. I'm just… I'm just wondering if maybe there is more to it. If maybe she didn't tell you everything."

"You're determined to believe that she's lying, even when she's admitting to killing someone," James said sarcastically. "You can't believe she would ever be honest?"

Marlene looked surprised by his harsh words, and James felt instantly regretful for what he had said. It wasn't Marlene's fault that he had learned this unpleasant truth, and he shouldn't take his frustration with Lily out on her. But he couldn't deny that he _was_ frustrated and upset by everything.

Lily had _killed_ someone.

But it was self-defense. That meant something, didn't it?

Finally, Marlene said, "Why are you so ready to change your mind? You were singing her praises just a few days ago."

"I…" James stopped, sighed. "I just…"

Marlene gave him a shrewd look, and said, "You really liked her. You… Sirius was right, you do fancy her. But more than that. You…" She trailed off with a sigh. "Fine. Maybe I am reading too much into these discrepancies. But James, the whole reason you hired me to work for you was _because_ I am good at finding details that don't quite fit. That's what I do, remember? I'm detailed-oriented."

"I know," James agreed. "And look… I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's just been a stressful couple of days."

Marlene waved off his apology. "Don't worry about it," she said lightly. "Let's just focus on the present trial. You need to finalize your witness list."

But that was easier said than done. How could James focus on the present when his mind was still stuck on the past?

He didn't know what to think of Lily now, and that was bothering him. The last seven years, she had been tormented and discriminated against because of Lestrange's fury and Narcissa Malfoy's desire for revenge, and all along James had thought that Lily didn't deserve that. But she _had_ killed Malfoy, and so…

Did she deserve it?

But no… he shook his head, shoving away the thought. Lily hadn't deserved any of it. Even if she killed Malfoy, it had clearly been in self-defense. It had been Malfoy who had attacked her, Malfoy who had tried to hurt her and the people she cared about, tried to ruin her life. Lily had been the victim.

His internal conflict must have shown on his face, because Marlene said suddenly, "Do you think Evans is a good person? Forget everything about either of these trials and just go with your instinct. Do you think she is a good person?"

"Yes," James said emphatically.

"Then go with that," Marlene said. "Trust that she is still a good person, and that she only did what she had to do because there was no other choice. Malfoy would have killed her and destroyed Lupin. And if Malfoy had become Minister and Voldemort had risen to power, a lot more would have been ruined than just those two lives."

James looked at her, then nodded. "You're right." Then he asked with a faint smile, "But when did you suddenly start liking Lily? You haven't been a big fan of hers during this trial."

"I haven't liked all of her lies," Marlene said quietly. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "But I keep thinking… if Malfoy had done to me what he was doing to Evans, if he had threatened you the way he had threatened Lupin, who is to say that I wouldn't have ended up killing him?"

James narrowed his eyes at the thought of Marlene in that kind of danger. She was one of his best friends, and since starting at Hogwarts, they had been so close that he had thought of her as a sister. And he always protected his family.

"You wouldn't have had to kill him," he said vehemently, feeling a sudden surge of anger. "Because Sirius or I would have done it first."

* * *

"So, I was thinking…"

"That's always a bad sign."

Sirius glared at James, then rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. The bar was crowded, and he had no idea why James would have chosen this as a place to spend the night before his part of the trial began. James certainly knew how to have a good time, but he also took his job seriously and didn't usually blow off his responsibilities like this. But James had been shaken by Evans' revelation, and evidently needed some time away from the office.

Too bad Sirius wasn't going to let him _not_ discuss the case. There was too much at stake here. And he knew, better than most, what the war could cost them. He had no doubt that his brother would end up involved with Voldemort – if he wasn't already – and Sirius wasn't going to let that happen without a fight.

"I was thinking," Sirius continued, "about whatever it was that Lupin found."

"That he may or may not have hidden in his home and that may or may not have been found by whoever attacked Longbottom?" James said. "What about it?"

"Okay, imagine that you are Lupin," Sirius said, leaning forward and lowering his voice so the conversation wouldn't be overhead by any of the other patrons. "Imagine that you've found something important, something that you know Voldemort wants. And you know he'll kill to get it back. So you're scared, but you're also determined to keep it away from him. What do you do?"

James contemplated this for a moment, then said, "I hide it."

"Where?" Sirius prodded eagerly.

"Um… somewhere safe?"

"Right," Sirius agreed. "But you wouldn't want to hide it in your own home. That would be idiotic. Anyone would think to look there first. So what do you do?"

James blinked a couple times. "Give it to someone you trust? Like Dumbledore?"

"What if you don't have time? Dumbledore is away on business and you are convinced that you are being followed. You don't know who to trust at Hogwarts so you don't take it there. You know you can't trust the Ministry, either, because Lestrange has too much power there. So what does that leave you with?"

"I don't know… a friend…?" James suggested, then trailed off as recognition dawned in his expression. "You don't think…?"

"Lupin went to visit Evans the morning he was killed, right? But he didn't want to talk then. In fact, he _refused_ to talk then. So if he wasn't going to talk to her at that moment, why did he show up? Why didn't he just send an owl and ask her to come by his place in the evening?"

"He hid whatever he found somewhere in Lily's apartment," James breathed. "She must have left him alone for a few minutes… And he didn't tell her because he was hoping that she wouldn't get dragged into this mess. He was terrified, and he didn't want her to get hurt."

"He probably didn't even want to hide it in her home, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice. He couldn't keep it with him… and who else would he trust?" Sirius agreed. "I'm going to Evans' place now. I'm going to check it out, see if I can find… whatever this thing is."

James nodded. "Okay. Okay. I can come with you."

"Shouldn't you go back to your office and prepare for tomorrow?" Sirius asked skeptically.

James raised his eyebrows. "When did you become the responsible one?"

"Stopping Lestrange is important, you said so yourself," Sirius reasoned. "And I am capable of being responsible on occasion." Then he smirked and added, "I can't help it if my irresistible good looks and charm often make me seem roguish."

"Irresistible good looks and charm," James repeated sarcastically. "Right. Still… I'm coming with you." His expression grew grave as he explained, "If we were able to figure this out, then maybe _they_ were, too. Someone already tried to kill Longbottom. This could be dangerous."

"I live for danger!" Sirius proclaimed.

But James could not be dissuaded, and the two of them left the bar together.

They arrived at Evans' home and entered quickly and without any hesitation. Any conversation that they might have had along the way was put on hold as they both tried to focus on their task. And the silence was not unwelcome. James had a lot of his mind, but so did Sirius, and as they wandered aimlessly around Evans' small home, trying to figure out exactly where Lupin would have hidden whatever object he found, Sirius could not help but think of Regulus.

Just the mention of his brother's name filled him with a combination of anger and dread. It had been years since Regulus had looked up to him, years since Regulus had treated him with anything but contempt. Being sorted into Gryffindor had done more than disappoint his parents, it had irrevocably changed things with Regulus as well. And he stubbornly tried to pretend that it didn't matter, but it _did_.

When Regulus was just a conceited, prejudiced, self-absorbed git, Sirius could easily ignore him. Now that he was possibly in league with murderers and a Dark wizard intent on taking over Britain… well, that was something else entirely.

Sirius tried not to think about it, and looked around instead.

Evans' living room was small and neatly organized. There was a table by the door and a few chairs forming a semi-circle in the center of the room. A lamp, a bookshelf, a small cabinet, a worn rug. The austerity of the place reflected the fact that she had been living near poverty, but she had still managed to make the place _feel_ like a home. The carpet was a dark red, the lamp a contrasting gold, and the chairs were covered with plush cushions. Despite the simplicity of the room, it looked far more inviting than Sirius' grand childhood home ever had.

Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.

James was already wandering towards Evans' bedroom, and Sirius smirked slightly at that. Raising an eyebrow suggestively at his friend, he asked, "Any reason you want to look in _that_ room?"

James shook his head in exasperation at Sirius' comment and said, "It would be a safe place to hide the object, wouldn't it?" His tone was almost daring Sirius to contradict him.

Which Sirius was happy to do. "Yes, but don't you think Evans would have noticed if Lupin was wandering around her room? We know he only visited her place once since his return – at least according to Evans – and I doubt she just left him alone. She hadn't seem him in three years."

"So where do you think it would be?" James demanded.

"Somewhere in the living room," Sirius replied, spreading his hands wide. "Easiest place for Lupin to get access to. He was probably standing here the whole time and just had to wait until Evans' back was turned or she stepped out of the room for a minute."

James sighed, but shrugged in acquiescence. "Fine."

They started hunting through Evans' stuff, and Sirius wondered idly what she would say if she knew that he and James were going through her books. She didn't seem like the type who appreciated having her privacy invaded, even with something as harmless as her book collection.

Of course, he supposed she would still prefer this to James going through her undergarments.

Most of the books had titles he didn't recognize, and he assumed that some of them were Muggle books. There were also several books on magical history and a few on complicated magical theory.

"So she's attractive and brainy," Sirius mused, pulling out a copy of _Advancements in Arithmancy_. "And apparently boring."

"Boring?" James echoed incredulously.

Sirius held up the book. "She reads about Arithmancy for fun."

James said nothing, just stared at the book morosely, and Sirius placed it back on the bookshelf. He was about to straighten up when something caught his eye. Although the floor had a fine film of dust over it, there appeared to be a set of tracks around the perimeter of the room.

"Hey, James, look at this," Sirius said, bending down to examine the footprints. They were light and hard to see, but the dust was displaced just enough for Sirius to be sure that this wasn't some odd coincidence.

Someone had been in this room recently. Someone had been here since Evans had been taken to Azkaban.

James knelt down next to Sirius. "Those are small footprints," he said quietly. "They had to have been made by a woman. A witch."

"The same one who attacked Longbottom?" Sirius asked sharply.

"Maybe…" James trailed off, following the footprints with his eyes. "They lead to that cabinet," he concluded, pointing to a small cabinet in one of the corners near the door.

Sirius walked over to it briskly and pulled it open. It was filled with knickknacks: two porcelain flowers – a lily and one that Sirius thought might have been some kind of petunia – a set of keys, a perfume bottle, a couple magazines. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The last shelf formed the top of a drawer, and James reached past Sirius and pulled it open impatiently. It was a small drawer, perhaps big enough to fit a few small books or other equally flat objects. It was stiff and hard to open, as though the wood had warped and no longer fit exactly into the allotted space.

It was empty.

It was also completely devoid of dust.

James let out a breath. "Someone was in here recently," he said. "And whatever was in this drawer…"

"They removed it," Sirius finished.

"It's not a particularly good hiding spot," James remarked after a momentary pause. "I would have looked for something like a hidden room."

"Not everybody has hidden room in their houses," Sirius answered, shaking his head in bemusement. "And maybe Lupin didn't have a whole lot of time. Maybe he thought this was good enough. Maybe he didn't plan on leaving it here that long. Just until he could get it to Dumbledore." He looked at James and finished grimly, "Maybe he didn't plan on getting murdered."

"Well, whatever it is, it's gone now," James sighed.

And it was at that exact moment that the door burst open and a cloaked figure came running into the room. Sirius reached for his wand, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw James do the same. But the figure who had entered was faster, and apparently did not want to fight with wands.

He punched James in the face.

James stumbled and fell to the ground, and Sirius brought up his wand and uttered a spell. A jet of red light issued from his wand, and the attacker jumped out of the way. His hood fell back then, revealing matted hair and whiskers on his face, and sores at the corners of his lips. He was smiling, showing pointed teeth, and his bright eyes glittered malevolently.

He waved his hand and Sirius was hit with a strong force that flung him backwards. He hit the wall and has the wind knocked out of him. On his hands and knees, he stared up at his opponent in disbelief.

The other man had incredible control over wandless magic to be able to conjure such an attack.

"Where is it?" the man snarled in a low, raspy voice. "Where is it?"

James had risen to his feet and had his wand out, pointed directly at the stranger. "Where is what?"

"What Lupin stole from the Dark Lord," the man snarled. "You came here for it, I followed you. I've been following you. Where is it?"

"Who are you?" James demanded, holding his wand threateningly. Sirius climbed back to his feet and followed James' example, eager for the opportunity to duel. James must have seen that in his friend's eyes, because he said in a softer voice, "Not yet, Sirius. Wait and see what he says."

"Where is it?" the man repeated, a note of desperation in his voice. "I will kill you and pry it from your fingers if I must." And he gnashed his teeth together.

"We don't have it," James answered. "It's not here. It was never here."

Sirius started a bit at James' lie, but said nothing.

"Liar!" the man cried, and drew his wand in one fluid movement. Sirius shot off a quick stunning spell, but the stranger conjured a shield that shimmered between them and absorbed the force of the spell.

"Expelliarmus!" James shouted, but his spell bounced harmlessly off the shield that was still in place.

Sirius decided in that moment to follow the example of his opponent, and ignoring the wand in his hand, he launched himself forward and slammed his fist directly into the other man's nose. The man reeled and fell back, scrambling to keep his footing.

Sirius hit him again, this time in the jaw.

And again in the stomach.

The man smelled like dirt and sweat and blood, and Sirius had to fight the urge to gag at the stench. There was something inhuman in his eyes, and something animalistic in his rage. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and shoved him backwards.

"Incendio!" he spat, and a blaze of fire illuminated the room. The air was filled with heavy smoke that stung Sirius' eyes and made him cough. But the stranger did not even seem to notice the side-affects of his spell. "The Dark Lord will come! He wants it back and he'll come for it," he warned.

Then he turned on the spot and Disapparated, and the fight was over just as abruptly as it had begun.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" James breathed as he waved his wand around the room and put out the fire.

"Someone who works for Voldemort," Sirius replied, feeling a surge of anger at the fact that the man had escaped. "Coward," he hissed. "He should have stayed and fought us."

"He was outnumbered," James replied wearily. "He had the element of surprise in the beginning and some impressive wandless magic, but he wouldn't have lasted long."

That did nothing to calm Sirius' anger, and he kicked sullenly at the floorboards, flexing his fingers and then curling them into fists.

James pocketed his wand.

"Was he the same wizard from before?" Sirius asked finally, thinking back to the stranger who had accosted James in the alley and given him all the information about Voldemort. It seemed unlikely, because _that_ wizard had been interested in imparting knowledge and this one seemed more inclined to fight, but Sirius still felt the need to ask.

James shook his head. "And it wasn't the witch who attacked Longbottom, either. How many people are involved in this? And whose side are they all on?" He frowned, and added a bit worriedly, "He said he had been following us. We should get out of here in case he comes back with friends."

Sirius smiled grimly and said, "We could take them."

James rolled his eyes. "Depends on how many he brings. And we're not going to stick around to get attacked by more people." He reached over and closed the cabinet, then said, "Come on, let's go."

Sirius reluctantly followed him to the door. He paused, and took one last look at the room. "They don't have it."

"What?" James asked, confused.

"Whatever Lupin stole. Voldemort doesn't have it yet. Otherwise that… man… wouldn't have been looking for it. So whoever took it from here… assuming that it was what was hidden in that drawer… didn't take it to Voldemort."

James accepted this in silence, then slowly asked the same question that Sirius had been thinking, "But if he doesn't have it, and we don't have it… who does?"

* * *

"Sirius Black came to speak to me," Dumbledore said gravely, looking at his companion. "He had quite interesting news to report, Alastor. James Potter sent him."

"Sirius Black," Moody said with a bit of derision. "His whole family is filled with Dark witches and wizards."

"But he isn't one," Dumbledore countered. He rested his hands on his desk and interlocked his long fingers. "It seems that one of Voldemort's followers confronted James."

"He tried to fight Potter?"

"No. He wanted to speak to him. Wanted to tell him about Voldemort and what happened seven years ago."

Moody frowned, wrinkles appearing on his face. "You mean…?"

"Yes." Dumbledore shook his head. "James didn't know who it was, the wizard kept his hood on the entire time. But he told James all about Voldemort's plans, and how Malfoy's death interrupted everything."

Moody leaned forward interestedly. "That was all conjecture, Dumbledore. Your assumption that Malfoy was poised to take over the Ministry, that his death was what stopped Voldemort's plan… there was never any proof of that."

"And you there are only a few in whom I confided my theories," Dumbledore said. "So it seems that we now have proof of the truth of those theories. This informant told James everything we suspected to be true. And, actually, more than that. Lestrange was supposed to take over the Wizengamot, and Rookwood was to have control of St. Mungo's."

Moody was silent for a moment. "Three of the four more important institutions in wizarding Britain."

"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed. "But then Malfoy was killed."

"And Lestrange couldn't secure a conviction against Evans," Moody said grimly. "Voldemort couldn't have been pleased about that." There was a shrewd look in his eye as he asked, "Is that why Bones is now the head of the Wizengamot?"

"Probably. Which means it is just as important to him to get a conviction this time as it is to Lestrange. It won't reflect well on either of them if Lily escapes Azkaban twice." Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. "However this trial ends, it will be the beginning of a war."


	17. Witness for the Defense

Chapter Seventeen: Witness for the Defense

"The Defense calls Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

There was a murmur of voices in the courtroom as the Headmaster of Hogwarts strode forward purposefully and settled himself into the witness box. He smiled politely, inclining his head first to the members of the Wizengamot and then to James and Lestrange. He seemed completely oblivious to the excitement his presence had elicited, although James knew very well that that was all a façade. The Headmaster was too perceptive not to notice the surprised and interested looks he was getting.

James chanced a look at Lestrange, and felt some satisfaction in seeing the other wizard looking so thoroughly disgruntled. It was no secret that Lestrange viewed Dumbledore as nothing more than a Muggle-loving old fool, but his dislike of the Headmaster would not blind him to the incredible amount of influence the venerable wizard held.

James then looked at Lily. They had not spoken since her confession, and Marlene's words kept running through his mind. He had spent enough time thinking over them to know that there was some truth to what she had said, and he was now fairly certain that Lily had not been entirely truthful with him.

He wanted to know more. He wanted the full truth.

She met his gaze and smiled slightly, a bit of warmth in her green eyes. He was surprised by that, having expected her to be angry or aloof after he had practically forced the confession from her, but he smiled as well.

Then James turned back to Dumbledore.

"Please state your name and occupation for the Wizengamot," James requested with a smile.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the Headmaster answered promptly. "I am Headmaster at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Headmaster," James said. "And can you tell us your relationship to Remus Lupin."

"He attended Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I knew him then. I also knew him later. We interacted in a professional capacity starting four years ago."

"Can you describe how this relationship began and what form it took?" James prompted, and he saw several members of the Wizengamot lean forward with interest. Likewise, many sitting in the galleries seemed to be holding their breath, eager to hear the answer.

"Four years ago, Mr. Lupin's close friend Alice Longbottom was tragically killed by a Dark wizard," Dumbledore said gravely. "The culprit was never caught, but Mr. Lupin was eager to do whatever he could to prevent such tragedies from happening to others. He came to me, asked me if I had any speculation about who had done this. I had ideas… but no proof."

"And what were your ideas?" James asked.

"Objection!" Lestrange cried, surging to his feet in a frantic manner. "Relevance?"

"The defense will argue that Mr. Lupin was in danger and his interactions with Miss Evans prior to his death were actually attempts on her part to help him. It would therefore be necessary to know _why_ he was in danger," James answered calmly.

He looked up at the Wizengamot's platform. Alistar Bones looked decidedly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, and James had to fight back a smirk at that. If everything he had learned from his mysterious informant was true, then Bones no doubt knew exactly who had killed Alice Longbottom and why. This line of questioning would make him very uneasy.

But what could he do? There was no way to sustain the objection. James was breaking no wizarding trial rules, and there was far too much curiosity reflected in the faces of all the other people in the courtroom for Bones to risk unfairly dismissing this line of questioning.

"Overruled," he said reluctantly.

James grinned, then turned back to Dumbledore. "What were your ideas as to the cause of Mrs. Longbottom's death?"

"There has been rumors of a Dark wizard recruiting followers. There were stories of attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns. This all happened some time ago. However, the recruitment began stopped rather abruptly several years ago." He paused, his eyes fixed on Lestrange, and then continued, "Seven years ago, to be exact."

Another murmur ran through the room. Seven was a rather important number to anyone who knew Lily's history.

"But then, four years ago, with Alice's death… I was concerned. There were more rumors. This Dark wizard… it seemed that he was back. And his followers were becoming active again."

"Objection!" Lestrange snarled, on his feet once more. "I don't recall any reports of attacks from seven years ago."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you did not pay attention to them, Mr. Lestrange, but I assure that they happened."

There was a dead silence in the room. Lestrange was not foolish enough to push any further. The only other thing he could say would be that Dumbledore was blatantly lying, and that type of accusation would earn him quite a bit of enmity from the many people in the courtroom who still thought of Dumbledore as the greatest wizard to ever live.

Lestrange sat back down.

"We could not catch the person who had killed Alice. But we could perhaps stop such a heinous crime from happening once more. I ask Mr. Lupin to investigate these rumors."

"And he worked for you for four years, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore confirmed.

"And would you say that this job was dangerous?" James asked, turning away from Dumbledore and staring at the witches and wizards gathered in the galleries.

"Quite" Dumbledore answered.

His words caused Lily to flinch and then lower her gaze, and James felt a welling if pity for her. He had not thought much about what it would be like for her to sit here and hear them discuss Lupin's job. But since they were all now assuming that it was his mission that had cost him his life, listening to a description of that very same mission could do little besides cause her pain.

"I had asked him to essentially spy on this wizard and his followers. I hoped to keep him as safe as possible by never sending him to the Dark wizard directly, but that does not mean that their paths did not cross. He was in grave danger at all times."

"Then why did he accept the mission?" James asked.

"Because he wanted to help fight evil," Dumbledore said bluntly, his eyes finally leaving Lestrange and settling on Lily. "Because he wanted to stop other people from being killed as Alice was. Because he wanted justice for his friend's death."

James nodded. That was the end of the questions that he had prepared for Dumbledore. He had briefly spoken to the Headmaster this morning, confirming everything that he was planning to ask. They had agreed on this list.

But he couldn't help himself. As Sirius had pointed out, this was about more than just Lupin and Lestrange and Lily. This was about fighting a war, and the best way to fight a war was to make sure that everyone knew who the enemy really was.

So he asked, "Can you us this Dark wizard's name?"

Dumbledore's gaze snapped to James, and a look of surprise showed briefly in his blue eyes. Then there was an almost calculating expression on his features, followed by a satisfied nod.

"Yes. He calls himself Lord Voldemort."

"Thank you," James said. "No further questions."

Lestrange rose to his feet and gave Dumbledore a long look. "Why was this Dark wizard recruiting followers?" he asked.

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side. "You would have to ask him, Mr. Lestrange. I cannot tell you what Lord Voldemort is thinking or why he acts the way he does."

James felt a bit of satisfaction at the way Lestrange flinched when Dumbledore so carelessly mentioned Voldemort's name. But he also knew that if the Dark wizard's own followers were terrified of uttering that name aloud, it would not be long until that fear seeped into the rest of the world. They would all be afraid of the name, and of the man himself.

"You have already implied that he was responsible for Alice Longbottom's death," Lestrange said steadily. "If you can conjecture about that without actual proof, then surely you can conjecture about his motives."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "If I had to venture a guess," the Headmaster said, "I would point to his habit of encouraging attacks against Muggleborns."

"He's recruiting followers for the sole purpose of attacking Muggleborns?" Lestrange repeated skeptically. "But Mrs. Longbottom was a pureblood."

"And one who befriended Muggleborns, defended them," Dumbledore countered, his eyes sliding momentarily to Lily. "I believe that Lord Voldemort would view her as a blood traitor." He leaned forward and asked mildly, "Or do you think that ideas of blood purity are so out of date that no one would resort to violence to uphold them?"

There was a rustling of paper and a few whispers from the Wizengamot. James glanced up at them quickly, and was pleased to see that more than a few were nodding their heads in agreement with Dumbledore's words. There were still some stony expressions, and a number of looks of loathing tossed towards the Headmaster or Lily, and James wondered just how many witches and wizards would join with Voldemort if given the chance.

He looked over at Lestrange. The wizard was flushed with anger as he glared at Dumbledore, but he was keeping his temper in check, and when he spoke, his voice was calm.

"And so Mr. Lupin was killed by this Dark wizard or one of his followers," Lestrange said slowly. "With a knife? It's an odd way for someone to kill if they despise anything related to Muggles." And without giving Dumbledore a chance to answer – although James wasn't sure what he would say because it _was_ an odd way for a witch or wizard to kill – Lestrange continued, "And still, do you have any proof of your theories?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know who killed Remus Lupin, if that is what you are asking," he replied evenly.

"And how do you explain Miss Evans' presence at Mr. Lupin's home? How do you explain why she was standing over his dead body?"

"Objection," James said instantly. "Counsel is requesting the witness give conjecture about something of which he has no personal knowledge."

"The Headmaster already speculated about the motives of this Dark wizard and the counsel for the defense had no objection to that," Lestrange countered. "Unless you believe that he has personal knowledge of the Dark wizard's innermost thoughts and…"

"What the witness did or did not answer previously is not relevant to this issue. _This_ line of questioning is speculative." He glanced at Lestrange and added coolly," And the fact that you did not follow wizarding rules on a prior line of questioning is hardly a _defense_ you should be using now."

"Enough," Bones said furiously. "I will not allow this to devolve into an argument about court rules." He paused, considering the two wizards for a moment, then said, "The witness may answer this question."

Dumbledore gazed at Lily as he answered, "Mr. Lupin and Miss Evans were friends. If Mr. Lupin thought himself in trouble, she would naturally be one of the first people that he turned to for help."

"But why would the deceased not contact you upon returning from his mission? You were the one who sent him on it, correct?"

"Objection!" James said angrily. "Counsel is asking for speculation _again_."

"Overruled," Bones replied lazily.

"It seems to be that if Mr. Lupin really was in such great danger, he would have come to you before going to Miss Evans," Lestrange sneered.

Dumbledore merely smiled in response. "But Mr. Lupin did contact me via owl. I was unfortunately away from Hogwarts at the time. He had not informed me of his plan to return and I was not aware that he was back until after he had been killed." He paused, his blue eyes serious, his expression filled with regret. "I wish I had known. Perhaps then I would have been able to stop it."

"And why wouldn't he tell you that he was going to return? That seems like important information, doesn't it?" Lestrange hissed, and James saw the way his eyes flashed dangerous and his face was slowly suffused in color. He was clearly losing this verbal battle with Dumbledore, and he knew it. But Dumbledore wasn't just another witness that he could intimidate or mock or deride.

James opened his mouth, about to object again, but then stopped. It wouldn't make a difference anyway, his objection would no doubt be immediately overruled. And, besides, Dumbledore seemed quite able to hold his own.

"Perhaps he had to leave in a hurry," Dumbledore suggested mildly. "Perhaps he was in danger and didn't have time to spare."

* * *

James watched impassively as Frank Longbottom settled himself into the witness box. He had not spoken to Frank since the Auror had revealed the truth about Lily's alibi, and there were so many things he still wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask. But now was not the time for any of those conversations.

Longbottom, like James, had seemed to instinctively know that stopping Voldemort before he waged his war was what truly mattered, and so when James had sent him an owl stating that he wished to put the Auror on the stand as a witness for the defense, Longbottom had not hesitated.

And no doubt some of it was also fueled by his desire for revenge against Lestrange.

"Auror Longbottom, you have already testified before the court," James said, "but will you please remind the Wizengamot of you name, occupation, and connection to this case."

"Frank Longbottom," Longbottom said readily enough. "I am an Auror, and was on the team of Aurors that retrieved Mr. Lupin's body and investigated his murder. I…" He paused, then said, "I was also friends with both Remus Lupin and Lily Evans at Hogwarts and… and for a few years after that."

"Thank you," James said. "And what were you responsibilities as an Auror on this case?"

"I gathered clues in the beginning," Longbottom replied, "and looked for the murder weapon. I helped secure the scene of the crime and keep out people who did not belong. I did an inventory of everything in the room where Remus' body was found. And I spoke to Lily shortly after she was first taken to Azkaban, mostly to see if she would confess."

"And just to reiterate what you said previously… did she?"

"Confess? No. She was adamant that she had not harmed Remus, that she never would have hurt him, let alone kill him."

"Thank you," James said, glancing over at Lily briefly. She met his gaze, her expression calm and collected. He had no idea how she had managed to gather her emotions and hide them again after their last, tumultuous conversation. But her eyes were dry and her expression was devoid of any feeling.

James ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, and wishing that he could simply force everyone to tell the truth. It would be so much easier then, so much less complicated.

"And the last time that you were sent as an Auror to visit Mr. Lupin's house, can you tell us what happened?"

Longbottom pursed his lips and nodded. "I was taking one last look around the room, and I noticed that the window was open. I was surprised by this, because I was sure that we had closed it after removing Remus' body. It was necessary to protect the room from the weather, and that seemed the easiest way. But I didn't give it much thought, just walked over to the window to close it."

"And what happened?"

Longbottom grimaced. "I was attacked."

"Attacked?" James repeated, feigning surprise. All around him, the courtroom was suddenly filled with whispers of surprise and concern. Several members of the Wizengamot leaned forward intently, their expressions filled with curiosity and anticipation. Whatever kind of defense they had expected him to mount for Lily, this theory about Remus fighting against some Dark wizard was clearly not it, and the trial was becoming more and more interesting with every passing minute.

"Yes," Longbottom said with a grimace. "There was someone already there. A witch, I believe. She was wearing a cloak so I never saw her face, but it sounded like a woman's voice. I think she was already there when I arrived, and I interrupted whatever she was doing. She hid, and then when it became clear that I wasn't leaving right away, she attacked me."

"Could it have been a common thief?" James questioned. It was not uncommon for witches or wizards to pilfer through the belongings of a recently deceased person, particularly one who died in such morbid circumstances. That was one of the many reasons Aurors always enacted wards around any crime scene.

"Remus lived in near poverty," Longbottom replied. "What would he have to steal? Besides, any time I've dealt with looters in the past, they don't stay around to fight. And they don't conjure Fiendfyre."

There were several gasps from the galleries and even one or two exclamations of shock. Fiendfyre was almost unheard of now, given that it was so dangerous and difficult to control. It was one of the darker spells, and that particular Dark art was never taught at Hogwarts.

"Fiendfyre?" James repeated.

Longbottom nodded. "And it wasn't the only lethal spell used. The witch didn't just try to disarm or stun me. She was trying to kill me."

"Objection!" Lestrange said. "The witness cannot possibly know the attackers intent."

James turned around with a laconic smile. "Why would someone use Fiendfyre if not to kill?" he countered.

"Sustained," Bones said. "The witness will refrain from speculating on the motives of others."

James had the momentary desire to argue the point, but then stopped and simply nodded instead. Bones might not be playing this fairly, but he couldn't undo what had already been said, and the other members of the Wizengamot would not be quick to forget what they had heard.

He looked over at Marlene. She was gazing up at the Wizengamot with a thoughtful expression on her face, and she finally turned and met his eyes, she gave him a wan smile.

He made a mental note to ask her later what it was that had pleased her.

"Mr. Longbottom, you previously stated that you had not spoken to Mr. Lupin in three years," James said, turning his attention back to the witness. "Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And you stated that your last interaction with him was an argument. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell us the details of the argument?"

Longbottom interlaced his fingers on his lap and stared down at his hands. "Remus was… he was working for Dumbledore. We thought… the Headmaster believed that this Dark wizard was responsible – either directly or indirectly – for my Alice's death. Remus was working with Dumbledore to learn all that he could about this wizard and to prevent the wizard from recruiting more followers. He had gotten hurt more than once, and Lily was upset about this. We argued. She wanted me to help her convince Remus that these missions weren't worth his life. And I… I was grieving for Alice, and I couldn't…"

He trailed off with a sigh and didn't finish the sentence. For a moment, it seemed as though he had forgotten that he was in the courtroom at all. He lifted his eyes slowly and looked at Lily, catching her gaze and holding it, oblivious to everything else around him.

He gave her a sad smile.

James felt the strangest sensation of apprehension as he watched Lily smile tentatively back, and it took him a moment to realize that he was jealous. Jealous of their shared history, of how well Longbottom knew Lily, how well they could understand each other, even now, even after so much had pulled them apart.

But that was ridiculous. He forced the thought away and mentally berated himself for even considering it in the first place.

"Auror Longbottom," James said, and his voice was a bit colder than he had intended, "in these argument, is it your recollection that Miss Evans was upset because Mr. Lupin was putting himself in danger?"

"Yes."

"She cared about him? She was concerned?"

"Yes, very much so."

"Did they argue a lot?"

Longbottom paused then nodded. "In the year before Remus disappeared, they argued quite frequently. Lily has quite a temper, and Remus… well, he didn't have a temper, but he could be incredibly stubborn. He wouldn't often change his mind once it was decided."

"And did they argue in public?"

"Yes."

"And in private?"

"Yes."

"And the arguments were loud and angry?"

"Yes."

James smiled and finished, "And the arguments, to the best of your knowledge, _always_ revolved around the fact that Miss Evans thought Mr. Lupin was putting himself into too much danger and she didn't want him to get hurt?"

"Yes."

Longbottom answered the final question with such resounding decisiveness that even James was a little surprised. The rest of the courtroom was filled with the buzzing of hushed conversations, but James ignored it and instead looked between Longbottom and Lily. They were staring at each other again, and this time Lily's smile was more firm and Longbottom didn't look quite as sad.

James frowned, furrowing his brows in bewilderment at what had just happened.

Then it occurred to him. This was Longbottom's way of conveying to Lily that, no matter what had happened seven years ago, he didn't believe she was guilty now. Whatever she had or had not done in regards to Lucius Malfoy, he knew she would never willingly and deliberately hurt Remus.

As James sat back down at his table, Marlene leaned over and rested her fingertips on his arm. "That went well," she whispered.

James slanted a look at Lestrange, who was silently seething. "It did."

Marlene followed his gaze, then shook her head and murmured, "It's more than that." She nodded towards the Wizengamot, and he looked at the witches and wizards aligned on the raised platform. There was nothing about them that was at all out of the ordinary, and he gave Marlene a bewildered look.

What was she trying to tell him? What had she seen that he had missed?

But she just smiled and said, "They're starting to have doubts."

* * *

James settled himself into the seat opposite Lily and offered her a warm smile. She stared blankly at him, thoroughly nonplussed by his attitude. And he supposed he couldn't blame her. The relationship that existed between the two of them was so fractured, so fraught with complicated emotions, that neither knew exactly what to make of it at this point.

"I want you to testify," James said finally. "Tomorrow morning. You're the last witness I am going to call."

"That went quickly," Lily replied in some distress. "Lestrange had more witnesses and… it lasted longer. Is there really enough evidence?"

James raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were convinced this was a lost cause anyway?" he said pointedly.

Lily flushed and averted her gaze. "It is… I know it is. I just…" She stopped, chewed her bottom lip. Then she blinked a few times and said in a clearer, stronger voice, "Are you sure that is a good idea? Lestrange will twist everything I say."

"Let him," James replied. "I'll just untwist it when he's done."

"Why are you doing this?" Lily asked after a moment of silence.

James narrowed his eyes. "Doing what?"

"Helping me."

James leaned back in his seat. "Do you think Lupin was wrong?" he asked quietly. "Do you think he shouldn't have taken the job from Dumbledore?"

Lily let out a breath. "I… It was dangerous. I didn't want him to…" She folded her arms over her chest and the looks in her eyes was almost defiant. But underneath that was something akin to resignation. "We're going to war, aren't we?" she said softly, her voice only just audible.

"I think so," James answered. "Dumbledore certainly thinks so, and he's… he's afraid. So you can imagine how serious he must think this threat it."

Lily nodded. "I see."

"Do you?" James demanded, bending forward and resting his arms on the table. "You've talked about yourself and you've talked about Lupin. But what about the rest of us?"

"What about you?"

"How can you believe that this isn't something worth fighting for? This wizard… this Voldemort… he wants to take away everything that we hold dear. He wants to destroy our society and turn it into his own twisted…" James stopped abruptly, biting off the words. He hadn't come to attempt to convince Lily of anything other than the necessity of her testimony tomorrow. But somehow, he found himself talking about other things, spewing out fierce proclamations that he had never had any inclination of stating.

How did she get under his skin like that?

"We have to fight back," he said. "It's about more than just you and Lupin. It's about doing the right thing. And I… I'm just trying to prove that I'm one of the good guys."

"I don't understand you," Lily said flatly.

"Oh?"

"Just a couple days ago you were dismissing Muggle ideas of a fair trial as though they weren't even worth considering. They were trivial and… and quaint… to you. Before that, you couldn't even understand the difference between being considered a blood traitor and being considered a Mudblood. And now you're championing an all-out war to defend us? You talk about equality and justice, but you're blind to your own privilege and the prejudices you grew up with. You were an arrogant, cocky, prankster at Hogwarts, and maybe you aren't a prankster now, but you were still arrogant and cocky when you first decided to represent me. And yet you're willing to die to defend people you don't know and will probably never interact with?"

James leaned back in his seat. "We're at war. Everything changes."

"It shouldn't," Lily argued. "It shouldn't take a war for you to realize that this society is inherently prejudiced. You talk about protecting Muggleborns now, and maybe you're thinking a bit more kindly about werewolves, but what about everyone else? House elves and centaurs and goblins and… Merlin, Mr. Potter, have you ever even wondered how Squibs are treated?"

"You can't change society overnight, Miss Evans, and you can't expect me to get everything right now. But this is a war, and this is something worth fighting for, dying for. Lupin was right about that. Maybe he was only ever out for revenge, maybe he didn't think about justice or any of that, but…"

"He did," Lily whispered, cutting into James' argument. He gave her a confused look, and she said, "Remus… he thought about more than just revenge. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to change things. I didn't understand at the time. After Malfoy… I put so much energy into just staying afloat. How could I think of fighting back when every time I tried, Cissy made it worse for me? The easiest way to survive was to stay as much out of their way at possible." She closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath. "But if this is war, I guess that isn't possible anymore."

"So maybe we were both wrong in the beginning," James suggested with a wry grin.

She opened her eyes and studied him. "Maybe," she conceded, and James' smile grew. Who knew he'd ever be able to get his temperamental client to admit to being wrong about anything?

"Why didn't you tell Lupin about what happened with Malfoy? Why did you use Longbottom as an alibi?" James questioned curiously.

Lily shrugged. "Frank was a better alibi. He's a pureblood, and his family name is well-respected, so he would be taken more seriously."

Her words were careless, blasé, but James knew better. Whatever else could be said about Lily, she would not have made a decision like that for solely practical reasons. Longbottom might have been a better alibi, but that didn't mean she had to lie to Lupin. She could have told him the truth, too. If he loved her as much as everyone claimed he did, he would have stood by her, lied for her if necessary.

No, there was some other reason she didn't tell him.

But James didn't press the issue. Instead, he said, "Tomorrow. You need to testify."

Lily nodded. "If you think it is a good idea…"

"I do."

"Very well." Lily rubbed at her weary eyes. "You still haven't told me why you are doing this. You were so disgusted with me after Frank told you about the alibi, and you stormed out of here pretty quickly after I told you about Malfoy. Do you really expect me to believe that you've just changed your mind so quickly?"

"I don't think you've told me everything," James replied honestly. "What happened to your wand that night? How did you get the scratches on your face? Why did your watch break at seven minutes past midnight when in your story you kill Malfoy before that? Why was Malfoy so angry at you then when he had known for years that you were trying to get Narcissa away from him? You told me originally that you couldn't relay the whole story because you were trying to protect someone. Who was it?"

Lily stared at him. "How did you know Malfoy was supposed to become Minister? Who told you that Lestrange was to have control of the Wizengamot and Rookwood would take St. Mungo's? Who told you that Voldemort had ordered Remus' death?"

James said nothing. It was true that he had not informed Lily of the mysterious stranger who had give him all that information. Neither had he told her about the fact that Lupin had evidently hidden this unknown and important object in her house, and that someone had found it, although they had no idea who.

It wasn't that the didn't trust her with the information. It was just… well, he wasn't sure he could explain it to her, or even to himself, but he just didn't want to tell her any of this quite yet. Maybe once the trial was over, when she was free – assuming she was cleared of all charges – then he could explain everything. But until then…

"I guess we both have secrets, Miss Evans," he said softly.

"I guess we do," Lily agreed.


	18. Worth the Risk

Chapter Eighteen: Worth the Risk

The incessant tapping of Sirius' fingers against the smooth grain of the desk was starting to seriously annoy James, but the numerous glares he sent towards his friend where either ignored or simply missed. And Sirius seemed too much in thought to care that he was irritating James, anyway. The expression on his face was one of deep contemplation, and it was so out of place that it was starting to worry James as well.

Then Sirius suddenly stopped, and the quiet startle James so much that he dropped the quill he was holding and smeared black ink along the parchment unraveled before him.

"Sirius?" James asked tentatively.

Sirius frowned at James, his eyes darkened with something like disgust. "I was thinking about Lestrange," he explained.

"What about him?" James asked curiously.

"Well… we haven't really talked about the obvious conclusion that should be drawn," Sirius replied, tilting his head forward and letting his hair flop lazily into his eyes.

James waited for more of an explanation, but got nothing except silence and a meaningful look from Sirius.

"I'm not a Legilimens," he said finally, "so you're actually going to have to tell me what you're thinking."

"We believe that Lupin's death was ordered by Voldemort," Sirius said. "Your mysterious informant told you that. And we know that Lestrange is working for Voldemort. So… Lestrange probably knows who killed Lupin. Maybe he even killed Lupin himself. He certainly doesn't have a problem committing murder if Alice Longbottom is any indication."

James opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut, realizing he had no idea how to respond. It was true, he _hadn't_ thought about that particular implication of all the clues. All this time, he had viewed Lestrange's actions as those of a man desperate to regain his reputation. But what if it was more than that? What if Lestrange was also trying to protect the real murderer?

What if Lestrange was the real murderer?

But then James shook his head. "No… No, I don't think Lestrange killed him."

"You think he suddenly grew a conscience?" Sirius asked disbelievingly.

"Lupin was stabbed, and the Aurors said that it looked as though there had been a fight. Maybe a fist fight of some kind. I just… I can't imagine Lestrange resorting to Muggle ways of killing people," James answered. "I actually don't know why any of Voldemort's followers would do that if they're so set on ideas of blood purity and the substandard nature of Muggles."

"The guy who attacked us at Evans' place didn't have a problem with it," Sirius pointed out.

James rubbed his jaw gingerly at that reminder. A few well-placed healing spells on Marlene's part had gotten rid of the bruise, but there was a lingering tenderness from where he had been punched.

And his ego had been hurt a little.

He couldn't argue with Sirius about this because he couldn't quite put into words why he was so convinced that Lestrange wasn't behind the murder. But he was absolutely sure that, even if Lestrange had known about it ahead of time, had supported it, had wanted it, he still had not committed it.

Not this way. Not with a knife. Not with a fight.

And, anyway, his involvement in Lupin's death wasn't the only remaining question, and for James, it wasn't even the most important one.

It was a thought that had come to him during his questioning of Dumbledore, and one that he wanted to discuss with the Headmaster at some point. He needed to hear the old wizard's opinion of his suspicions before he made any decisions on how exactly to address the issue: namely, whether or not to confide his worries to Lily.

But he was starting to think that her presence at Lupin's house shortly after he had been killed was not an accident or a coincidence of any sort. After all, if she had killed Malfoy – and he still had no idea what to think about _that_ – then she had played a major role in thwarting Voldemort's plans. And her subsequent escape from Lestrange's clutches and avoidance of Azkaban had only made things worse.

So what if she had been set up? What if, all along, Lestrange had planned for Lily to be the culprit in this murder?

If Lupin had been followed, Voldemort and his followers would have known that he had visited Lily. They could only assume then that she would try to help him. Killing Lupin after he visited her would allow Lestrange to make an argument for her guilt. And the fact that she had actually gone to his house and discovered his body… well, that was just icing on the cake for him.

If Alice Longbottom had been murdered as a way of getting revenge against her husband, then no doubt they wanted Lily dead as well. And for more reasons than just her blood status.

So even if she escaped Azkaban this time, would she really be safe?

James looked again at Sirius and debated revealing his concerns. But before he could say anything, Sirius had started speaking again.

"We need to know more," Sirius said angrily, shoving his chair backwards and scraping the wooden legs across the floor. "We need to know what's actually going on now. All we've got are guesses." His voice was filled with frustration and his eyes were filled with fury. "I want to _do_ something."

"We all want to do something," James said reasonably.

But he and Sirius clearly had very different ideas of what _doing something_ would entail, and it worried James. Sirius had always been more prone to actions than words, and the actions didn't always accompany actual thought. A predisposition towards reckless behavior was usually not such a bad thing, but the idea that his best mate might decide to start a fight with Lestrange or – even worse – Voldemort in some misguided sense of doing the right thing…

Well, at least they could console themselves with the fact that they had no idea where this Voldemort was, how to find him, or how to even recognize him if they did find him.

Which, upon further reflection, was not actually much of a comfort.

"I wish we knew more about the guy who attacked you," Sirius muttered.

"Which one?" James asked wryly. "The one in the alley or the one at Lily's home? And why am always the one to get attacked, anyway? The wizard at Lily's home went for me before he even reacted to _your_ presence."

"They don't want to mess up my devilishly good looks unless absolutely necessary," Sirius replied with a smirk.

James rolled his eyes.

"I meant the one in the alley," Sirius answered. "I mean, what kind of person joins up with a Dark wizard at then has second thoughts? And why? And how come he couldn't be more detailed in everything he told you?"

James stared at Sirius for a long moment and said nothing. But then he forced himself to look away so that the other wizard wouldn't see the guilt in his eyes.

All he had were suspicions, but he was fairly certain he was right about them, and he didn't like keeping them to himself.

* * *

Dumbledore waited quietly as James stumbled through an explanation of everything that had occurred in the past few days, clearly doing his best not to leave out any details. That had surprised the Headmaster because although he knew that James respected him, he had not been expecting so much trust. But the young Potter was full of surprises, even if he was not currently being particularly eloquent.

"…and then he just… left. And Sirius and I couldn't quite figure out… I mean… he doesn't have this thing… whatever it was… and we don't have it… but _someone_ has it. Someone who isn't us and isn't Voldemort and… is it you?"

Dumbledore shook his head gravely. "No, it is not, however much I wish it was." He rose to his feet and walked around his small desk, studying James thoughtfully. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Fawkes stretching his long neck and fixing James with a beady stare as well.

"So we have no idea who has this object, or what the object is," James said glumly. "All we know is that it is important enough to kill for, at least to Voldemort."

Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded. He had his suspicions about what the object could be, but without further proof, he was not going to share them. At least not yet.

"And this man who attacked you," Dumbledore said quietly, "can you describe him?"

"Um… he was a bit taller than me. And he had whiskers and his hair was matted. He had these sores at the corners of his mouth and… and his teeth were pointed. And a bit yellow," James said, struggling to describe the wizard. "And Sirius said he smelled funny. Like sweat and… blood. And dirt. If that makes sense."

Dumbledore nodded. "And he attacked first without a wand?" he murmured. That was unusual, he knew of very few grown wizards whose first inclination was to forgo magic.

He rose to his feet and crossed over to one of the many cupboards in his circular office. Opening the door, he pulled out the large stone basin that sat on the middle shelf and carried it back to his desk. Inside, the silver almost-liquid of his thoughts swirled gently, catching the light in odd patterns.

He set the pensieve down on the table. "Would you be able to recall the memory of his face?"

"I think so," James answered, and he sounded both awed and nervous. "I've never used a pensieve before."

Dumbledore smiled. "They are rare," he agreed. It was unusual for most people to own a personal one, and even rarer for them to have any reason to need it. Even a family as old and privileged as the Potters would not be likely to have a pensieve. They were far more common at work places, particularly in certain departments at the Ministry were sifting through complicated or convoluted thoughts was necessary to completion of specific tasks.

He walked around the desk again and settled himself back into his seat.

James eyed the basin warily, then pulled out his wand.

"Just concentrate on the memory," Dumbledore coached, "and when you place your wand at your temple, try to force the memory out of your mind."

James followed those instructions, and a moment later was withdrawing a thin strand of silver from his mind. It floated in the air like a single thread of a spider's web caught on the end of his wand, and then he haphazardly shoved the wand into the basin.

Dumbledore chuckled. "There's no reason to be quite so rough with it," he said, but made no further admonishments. Instead, he looked at the silvery substances and waited.

A moment later, a face swam into view.

He inhaled sharply.

James caught the sudden breath and looked up in surprise. "Do you know him?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I've long had reason to believe that he was the one Lord Voldemort had personally requested to contact the werewolves that he was interested in recruiting. Remus confirmed this for me once, although he did not know all the details of this man's loyalties."

"The details? Is he one of Voldemort's followers or not?" James asked, sounding confused.

"Oh, he is certainly under Voldemort's control, whether he knows it or not. I doubt he will ever count himself fully among Voldemort's ranks – he is not likely to consent to being willingly subservient and Voldemort is not likely to sully his beliefs by accepting a half-breed – but he is a powerfully strong wizard and too valuable an ally for Voldemort to ignore. His name is Fenrir Grayback. He's a werewolf."

"Nothing wrong with being a werewolf," James muttered, and Dumbledore could not help but smile. The smile did not last long, however, as his mind wandered to the deeds he knew Grayback had committed.

"He bites children," Dumbledore said softly. "If their parents don't agree with whatever it is that he wants, he positions himself near their homes at the full moon…" He trailed off and shook his head, feeling suddenly very old.

He looked over at Fawkes. The phoenix ruffled his wings and gazed back at him, his own eyes strangely expressive.

James' face twisted into a look of disgust. "Merlin, that's… that's horrible."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. There weren't words to properly describe just how much he despised Grayback's tactics.

"If Grayback is indeed involved in all this, then this is more proof as to why Remus was killed," Dumbledore said heavily. It was his mission, his orders, that had put Remus in danger and ultimately gotten him killed.

James didn't appear to have anything to say to that, and Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to feel regret.

"Sir… uh… Albus?" James said after a lapse in the conversation. "Why is Voldemort waiting so long to attack? I don't understand why he would have spent seven years doing nothing."

"He wasn't doing nothing," Dumbledore replied. "He was recruiting. He was building his army, growing stronger." He leaned back in his seat and stared at James through his half-moon spectacles. "Voldemort is intelligent. Brilliant, even. He attended Hogwarts years ago – not, of course, under the name Lord Voldemort – and was then of the brightest students I have ever had. But he was also cunning, ruthless… and he did not take risks unless he was convinced that there was a high likelihood he would be successful. His plan was so completely destroyed seven years ago."

"But if it is true that Malfoy was going to be Minister… well, why didn't Voldemort just find someone else to do the job?" James demanded. "Why put everything on hold just because one person died? I haven't gotten the impression that he really cares about his followers."

"No," Dumbledore said flatly, "he doesn't."

"Then why…?"

"He had no way of knowing how much we knew," Dumbledore replied. "Lucius Malfoy was killed and Lestrange's reputation suffered a severe blow. That was two of the three most important followers Lord Voldemort had. He knew I was suspicious, knew that there were a handful of people fighting against what he was doing. He must have assumed that we knew more than we did, and was not about to start a war if he did not have the upper hand. And keep in mind, James, that even if he did not attack outright, these past four years, he _has_ been active. Recruiting, and probably making plans."

"It's still a long time to wait," James protested.

"I do not believe time matters to Voldemort quite the way it matters to the rest of us."

James blinked. "That's what my uh… informant… said," he muttered.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Your informant?"

"The one who Sirius told you about. The one that gave me all that information about Voldemort. I asked him the same thing, why Voldemort would wait so long. He said something about time not mattering to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore leaned forward eagerly. "Did he say anything else about that?"

James shook his head. "No. Why? Is it important?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Maybe."

He knew James was hoping for more, could see the expectant expression on his face. But Dumbleodre only had suspicions, and though he was convinced that they were at least partially correct, he had no desire to share them until he had more information. Still, James' comment meant that at least a few others were aware of the things Voldemort had done.

Including this stranger who had accosted James.

"Do you have any idea who this… informant.. of yours is?" Dumbledore asked.

James shifted uncomfortably. "I… sort of. I thought I recognized his voice and… there was just something very familiar about him, but I couldn't quite place it. And then… the more I thought about it, sir… I think it might have been Regulus Black."

Dumbledore accepted this in silence. Then he said, "Be careful, James. This is dangerous, and I fear it is getting more dangerous every day."

James shrugged. "I know. But if Voldemort is as bad as you and everyone else keeps saying, then stopping him is worth the risk."

* * *

"I'm nervous."

James was so stunned to hear the admission that he simply gaped at Lily, eyes widening. It took him a moment to recover his wits, and he reminded himself firmly of all the other times a client had said the exact same thing to him. There might be much more at risk this time than there ever had been before, but that did not change how he was supposed to act when faced with such a comment.

"There's no reason to be nervous," he said, struggling to sound warm and encouraging. But he couldn't quite manage it, and somehow, the reassurance sounded far more useless now than it ever had in the past.

Lily gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not a fool, Mr. Potter," she said pointedly. "Your empty assurances won't work on me."

James sighed.

"Just be honest," he advised. "When I ask you a question, answer it truthfully."

"And what do I do if they ask about all the times I've lied?" she demanded.

He reached out and touched her arm gently. "I'm the one you've lied to the most, remember?" he answered. "And I won't ask you about that. And I won't ask you about Malfoy. We will stick to Lupin's death." She didn't look convinced, and he said, "Lestrange doesn't know about most of your lies. He can't ask you about them, Lily. He can't ask you about things he doesn't know."

She nodded. "And if he asks about Malfoy?"

"I'll object. I will argue that it isn't relevant."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, and I am sure that Bones will agree with you as he always does," he replied sarcastically.

James hesitated, knowing that he couldn't really argue with her about that. Bones would ignore his objections and allow Lestrange to ask anything he wanted about Malfoy. And those were not questions he wanted Lily answering. In part because he was afraid she might confess to the murder and in part because he still had no idea what had actually happened that night and he didn't want any surprises.

"Legally, I cannot advise you to lie when you are under oath," he said slowly.

Lily's mouth dropped open in complete surprise. "But you are," she whispered. "You want me to lie, to stick to my earlier story, my fake alibi… You want me to tell Lestrange that I didn't have anything to do with Malfoy's death."

James turned away and didn't answer. All of sudden, he was struck with the memory of Longbottom's conflicted face as he explained that he had committed perjury to keep Lily safe.

And now James was doing the same thing. Well, he himself was not lying under oath but he was advising one of his clients to, and that was tantamount to breaking the law himself. But what other choice did he have? If he told Lily to tell the truth when Lestrange asked about Malfoy – and he would undoubtedly ask about Malfoy – she would admit to his death and ruin any chance she had at being cleared of these charges. And how long would it be then before Lestrange was poised to take over the Ministry or the Wizengamot, to further Voldemort's plans?

It left him feeling dirty and uneasy. This wasn't justice. It was something different, something so much harder to swallow. Sirius, he knew, wouldn't care. He'd say that Malfoy got exactly what was coming to him. And, as James himself had pointed out to Marlene, he or Sirius would have killed Malfoy to protect her from meeting the same fate as Lily nearly had. But did that make it okay?

What did Narcissa and Draco Malfoy think?

When did everything change from back and white to shades of gray?

He sank wearily into his chair, and after a moment, Lily followed suit.

"Remus was always so angry at Frank," Lily said quietly, "because Frank wouldn't stand by me after the trial. Because he suspected…" She paused, ran a hand through her wild hair. "I was never upset with him for it. How could I be? I had already asked so much from him and…" Again, she trailed off. "But Remus didn't know the truth, and so he didn't understand why Frank was so reluctant to champion me as Narcissa tried to ruin my life."

"You killed her husband," James said bluntly.

Lily flinched, but otherwise did not react to his comment. Instead, she continued, "Even after Alice died… I never told Remus the truth. So he couldn't understand how my friendship with Frank had fractured so much. He couldn't understand… and he couldn't excuse. I'm not sure he ever forgave Frank for the perceived slights against me."

"Why didn't you tell Lupin?" James asked, repeating a question she had not answered the first time he asked.

"I didn't want him to know I was a killer," Lily answered. "I didn't want him to know the truth. He… he didn't see my faults, he never saw them. He thought I was perfect and I… I didn't want him to know what I had done. I didn't want him to know that I wasn't perfect and that… it was self-defense, but still…"

James swallowed uneasily. "Lupin hid the… object… in your living room," he said.

Lily gaped. "He… what? Did you find it?"

James shook his head. "It was already gone by the time that we got there. Someone had taken it. Do you know who?"

Lily stared at him with an oddly calculating look in her eyes, but then shook her head. "No. I don't even… I don't know who would have even thought to look there. Does… does Voldemort have it?"

"No," James answered. "Someone else does. We just don't… we just don't know who."

There was a long silence.

Finally, Lily asked, "When did you discover this?"

"A day and a half ago," James answered.

"And you're only telling me now?"

"It seemed time to get rid of some secrets," James answered. "Any you would like to share?"

Lily didn't reply, and James rose to his feet. "I should go," he said, starting towards the door. "The Wizengamot will arrive shortly and someone will escort you to the courtroom. Your testimony will begin as soon as court is in session."

"Mr. Potter… James…"

He paused at the door and looked back. She was sitting at the table still, and her eyes were filled with tears. Her red hair hung limply over her pale features, accentuating the weariness in her face. She looked so exhausted, so worn, that James could not help but wonder what kind of toll keeping these secrets for seven years had taken on her.

"I knew about Malfoy."

"What?" James asked, not comprehending.

"I knew he was going to be Minister. Or… well, I knew he was going to be something important. Maybe not Minister, but… I knew that Voldemort had plans for him. He told me… when we argued at St. Mungo's, when I threatened him. I told Dumbledore about it… and I told Narcissa. That's what he was so upset about the night I… the night he died. Narcissa hadn't known about the plans before that, and he didn't like that I had told her."

James dropped his hand from the doorknob. "You knew?" he breathed. Somehow, that seemed to change everything.

But Lily guessed his thoughts and said, "It doesn't change anything, it really doesn't. I kept hoping it would. For seven years, I kept thinking that maybe I could justify everything by… We're fighting a war, a war that threatens to destroy everything and everyone I love. A war launched against people like me. And war is fundamentally dark… and I kept hoping that… but nothing changed. Sometimes I think that's why I never fought against Narcissa as hard as I could have, why I never tried to get Frank to trust me again, why I didn't ask Dumbledore for help or assistance of any kind… Because didn't I deserve their hatred or contempt? I wanted to believe it was for the greater good… Seven years, Voldemort didn't do anything. Seven years, and I thought that maybe part of it was because of me. But now… now that I know for a fact that I played a role in delaying an all-out war… It doesn't make anything easier."

"Why are you telling me this?" James asked.

Lily shrugged. "You said you wanted to share some secrets."

* * *

_Narcissa will not listen. She's shaking her head, blonde hair falling in front of flashing eyes, anger causing her fair skin to turn pink. She's backing away, and Lily wants more than anything to stop her, to force her to listen. But she can't. She can't do anything, and the space between her and her one-time friend grows._

"_Cissy?" a voice says, and Malfoy is suddenly there, at Narcissa's side. He wraps and arm around her and slides himself into the space between the blonde witch and the redhead. There is another man with him, one that Lily vaguely recognizes as a high-ranking Unspeakable at the Ministry… Rookwood, maybe?... and he gently takes Narcissa by the hand._

"_Come, Mrs. Malfoy," the Unspeakable says with a smile, drawing her away. Away from Lily._

"_Cissy, wait!" Lily cries out, one last attempt. But Malfoy closes his hand around her shoulder and drags her backwards and Narcissa walks away and doesn't look back._

"_Don't cross me, Evans," Malfoy snarls, his voice low and threatening. "You've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Don't tempt me to crush you."_

_She looks up at him, and she knows she should be afraid. He is powerful, magically, politically, physically. He could crush her without much effort on his part. But Narcissa is her friend, and she doesn't want to believe that the blonde is past saving. Even though she has been making excuses for Narcissa for years, even though Remus, Alice, and Frank don't understand, even though all logic would tell her that they have each chosen their paths and it is time to stop pretending that anything can change._

_She doesn't feel fear. She feels anger, because this is Malfoy's fault. He has done this, he has taken Narcissa away from her. He has ruined this friendship and knocked her down over and over and Lily is just so tired of it all._

"_I'm not afraid of you," she says._

_Malfoy smiles cruelly. "Oh? Then wait a week, Mudblood, and you will be."_

"_What happens in a week?" Lily asks._

_Malfoy leans close, smiling malevolently . "One week, and your kind will be where they truly deserve. One week, and I promise you, the Dark Lord will make sure you know your place. And perhaps, just for fun, I will make sure Lupin knows his place as well."_

_Lily's breath catches in her throat. "Remus?" she whispers, horrified. "What do you…?"_

"_I'll be in a position to do something about scum like you and half-breeds like him," Malfoy continues in his malicious tone. "I'll be able to get rid of you lot and nothing will stand in my way. _Nothing_."_

"_How did you know…?"_

"_About your pet werewolf?" Malfoy asks softly. "Does it matter? All that matters, Evans, is that in one week I will have control, I'll have power, and then you'll learn the penalty for crossing me. I'll ruin you. And I'll destroy Lupin. He'll never find work again. He'll never live among witches and wizards. I'll send him out with the rest of the werewolves to live in the woods like the beast that he is…"_

_She doesn't know what she is doing, hasn't though through any of the consequences of her actions. All she knows is that she is furious and terrified and it isn't until she hears the resounding crack of skin hitting skin and feels a tingling in her palm that she realizes she has slapped him._

_The words pour from her, loud and angry and filled with fire, "If you do that, I will make you regret it!"_


	19. Closing Arguments

Chapter Nineteen: Closing Arguments

She settled herself into the witness box with an incredible amount of trepidation. James' reassurances had done nothing to calm her frayed nerves, and though the few secrets they had shared had made her feel inexplicably closer to him, they did nothing to help her prepare for this trial, for this moment.

She glanced over at James. She couldn't bring herself to look at the Wizengamot. She didn't know what she would see there. Perhaps disgust or loathing, or just ill-concealed excitement. It was no secret to anyone that this trial was being sensationalized in the newspapers, but it also didn't need much in the way of embellishment.

An old rivalry. A secret mission. A mysterious Dark Lord. A possibility of war.

The only thing needed now was two star-crossed lovers and the story would be complete.

James was smiling at her, but the expression did not reach his eyes. There was a sadness in them, and a resolute determination. For all his cocky arrogance in the beginning, he had not hesitated to throw himself into this coming war, to pick a side and prove to the world that he would not stand for the twisted ideals of blood purity.

She wondered vaguely if she should trust him with the full truth of Malfoy's death. He had stood by her side throughout all her lies, and even if it was to serve his own ends, to defeat Lestrange… was it her imagination, or had she seen sympathy and maybe even understanding in his eyes when they spoke this morning?

James rose to his feet and walked over to her, and she drew a shaky breath.

She would not look at Lestrange, either. There was no reason, she knew what she would see there. Contempt, of course, and disgust. Hatred. And a burning desire to see her destroyed.

"Please state your name for the Wizengamot," James said.

"Lily Evans," she said. Her voice sounded quiet and tentative, and lacked the usual flare of passion that accompanied everything she normally did. Azkaban had drained that from her, just like it had taken her defenses. The solid walls she had built up over the years to protect herself from the turmoil of everything that had happened to her had crumbled without much protest over her stay in that prison.

It had been a long time since she had felt this vulnerable.

"Miss Evans, are you aware that you are on trial for the murder of Remus Lupin?" James asked.

"Yes," she said. Her hands started to shake.

The vulnerability, she thought to herself, might not be entirely due to Azkaban. James had surprised her by slipping through her defenses as well. He had not gotten under her skin quite the way she knew she had gotten under his, but there was no denying that fact that she had revealed truths to him that she had not told anyone else. Perhaps logically she could say that he had backed her into a corner, but that wasn't the real truth. She could have lied.

She had plenty of practice with _that_.

"Can you please tell us about your relationship with Mr. Lupin," James said. He turned away from her and looked at the Wizengamot and she resolutely did not follow his gaze. She knew staring straight out into space as she spoke would only underscore her guilt – why else would she be afraid to look at the Wizengamot? – but she had not yet worked up the nerve to see what they thought of her.

"Remus and I met on our first day of Hogwarts. We were sorted into the same House and… we became friends. Best friends. We spent all of our free time together, we studied together, we sat together in class. It was the two of us and Frank… Frank Longbottom."

"And how long did this friendship last?"

"Remus and I started dating about four years ago," Lily answered. "The relationship lasted for a year. He…" She stopped, her throat suddenly dry. It took her a moment to force the words out, but finally she said with choked emotion, "I loved him."

She wasn't in love with him. She had never been in love with him, and she knew that now. She had never felt the same kind of love for him that he had felt for her or that Frank and Alice had felt for each other.

But she had loved him.

And how he was dead.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to keep them at bay.

"But the relationship eventually ended," James prompted.

Lily nodded. "We argued a lot during that year. It was right after Alice… Alice Longbottom… had been killed. Frank was devastated and Remus… he wanted to do something about it. He wanted justice, he wanted revenge… and he wanted to fight the Dark Arts. It was a Dark curse that had killed Alice and… he went to Dumbledore. He told Dumbledore that he wanted to fight but… but he didn't know how or who to fight and… and did Dumbledore have anything he could do?"

"And what did the Headmaster say?"

"He sent Remus on these missions. Remus wouldn't take about them much, so I only knew a few of the details. But what I did know, what I could see for myself, was that he would come home with bruises and scars. I was scared. Alice had died and… I saw what it did to Frank. I saw how it nearly destroyed him and I didn't want… I didn't want Remus to get hurt."

"How did the relationship end?"

"We had an awful fight one night," Lily said. "It was Frank and Remus and I. Frank left early and Remus and I were still fighting and then… Remus left. He went to Dumbledore and accepted a mission that would… it was a long-term one. He didn't know when he would be back. It was three years until I saw him again."

She stopped and chewed her lip. It hurt just talking about it, hurt thinking about how much had been lost. In retrospect, she knew she hadn't been as understanding to either Remus or Frank as she should have been. But she also wondered how much difference it would have made. The problems with Frank went back so much further than that fight, back to the night she had asked him for an alibi. And Remus…

Well, she was fairly certain that he would have continued with these dangerous jobs regardless of how she had reacted. And maybe he still would have been killed.

"Did you speak to Mr. Lupin at all during the past three years?" James asked gently, his voice pulling her from her troubled thoughts.

"No," she said simply.

"When did you next see him, then, after this argument?"

"Not until the day he was killed," Lily whispered.

"You'll need to speak up, Evans, we can't hear you when you mumble," Bones cut in sharply, and she found herself looking at him and the rest of the Wizengamot without meaning to. He was gazing at her with disgust and dislike, but she had expected that. It was the other faces that drew her attention, and she found herself entirely unable to look away.

Most of the witches and wizards on the Wizengamot were staring at her with fascination and curiosity, as though she was an unusual or exotic specimen that they wanted to study, like a giant bug under a Muggle telescope. It made her uneasy, and worse, it made her feel judged.

Of course, they were the Wizengamot, they were supposed to judge her. But they were supposed to judge her for this specific crime, and yet if the expressions in their eyes were any indication, they were judging her for so much more than that. They were judging her worth as a witch and a human being beyond the heinous crime she had supposedly committed.

They were judging her blood.

"Miss Evans," James said, his voice suddenly forceful. She snapped her gaze back to him, realizing that she had let her mind drift away and had not answered Bones' comment.

"Not until the day he was killed," she said in a louder tone, this time glancing very quickly at Bones "I didn't see Remus again until the morning before he… before he died."

"Robert Ringleton testified that you and Mr. Lupin met at his pub on the evening of September 15th," James countered.

Lily sighed. "Mr. Ringleton was mistaken," she said. She would have preferred to state bluntly that he was lying, but she and James had been over this subject in their preparations the day before, and had insisted that she not outright accuse Ringleton of anything. Accusing someone else of anything while she was the one on trial for murder would only make her look desperate, and that would in turn increase the perception of her supposed guilt.

Besides, enough people on the Wizengamot had read the _Daily Prophet_ article and believed the accusations leveled against Lestrange. They didn't need her to repeat any of what had been written there.

"And Sethos Avery? He testified that he saw Remus leaving your home on September 16th, the day he was killed. Was he also mistaken?"

She shook her head. "Remus did come to see me that morning," she answered. "I did not follow him from my home so I cannot speak to the truth of Mr. Avery's comments about what happened after he left, but Remus was with me that morning."

"Can you tell us what happened during that visit?" James prompted.

"He showed up at my door without any warning. I… I had no idea he was even back and then… I hadn't spoken to him in three years, Mr. Potter, so I was quite shocked to see him there. And he…" Her throat constricted. It felt as though something heavy was pressed against her chest. She could barely breathe through the tumultuous emotions that were plaguing her.

James was smiling at her encouragingly. Beyond him, the rest of the audience was listening with rapt attention. She could sense all their eyes on her, and as she slowly forced herself to look at them, to allow her gaze to sweep over the room, she felt almost nauseous.

She couldn't adequately explain what she felt upon seeing him on her doorstep. None of it had made any sense then, and it was only starting to make sense to her now. Her emotions had been so jumbled, and she had been so hurt and so angry that he had actually presumed to show up without any warning, and so relieved to see him alive.

But thoughts of their last fight lingered in her mind, as did James' pointed question from earlier.

Had Lupin been wrong to take the job from Dumbledore? He hadn't known the details about Voldemort, hadn't known of the plan involving Malfoy and the others, had never really comprehended how close they had come to losing everything that made their society even remotely worthwhile. But she _had_ known. Not the details, not enough… but she had known.

"Remus was afraid," she said, forcing her thoughts back to the trial, to the questions she was supposed to be answering. "He told me he thought he was being followed. He thought he was in danger. He didn't want to stay long for fear that he would lead his enemies to me. I tried to convince him to stay, to let me help, but… he wouldn't listen. He asked me to come to his flat that evening and then he left before I could stop him." She let out a shaky breath. "He was afraid, but he wasn't afraid of me."

James nodded. "Thank you."

And now was the hard part. Now Lestrange would have the chance to ask _his_ questions, and Lily was not sure how she could face him.

"Miss Evans," Lestrange said, rising to his feet and giving her a cold smile, "your parents were both Muggles, correct?"

"Objection!" James snapped instantly. "Relevance?"

"Overruled," Bones said lazily.

Lily glanced at James and saw the frustration in his eyes. She couldn't blame him for being annoyed, but she was also able to be realistic enough to know that her blood status was relevant, and always would be.

"Yes, both my parents were Muggles," Lily replied steadily, looking at Lestrange and taking in the contempt and disgust she saw there.

"And you first learned about magic and Hogwarts when you received your letter inviting you to the school," Lestrange continued with a bit of a sneer. "For the first eleven years of your life, you knew nothing about this world or its rules and mores." His words were dripping with disdain, as though this lack of knowledge and experience would tarnish her for life.

Lily swallowed. "That is correct."

"You argued quite a bit with Lucius Malfoy, didn't you?" Lestrange said, walking towards her in what could only be described as a predatory manner. "Narcissa Malfoy testified that you were friendly with her at Hogwarts, but your friendship dwindled. Was that because of your dislike for her husband?"

Lily couldn't help but frown. She had no idea where this line of questioning was going, and did not like it. She did not like the fact that he could be leading her into some type of trap, prepared to twist her words until their meaning was completely changed, until he had her saying something she did not believe.

She glanced quickly at James, but he was looking at Marlene McKinnon and did not notice her gaze.

"There were several reasons why our friendship ran its course," she said finally. "My dislike of Lucius Malfoy was only one of them."

"I believe you told Narcissa that Lucius wasn't good enough for her. That he was a bad influence. And when she became pregnant, you said he would make a bad father."

"Objection!" James snapped again. "Relevance?"

"Overruled," was the immediate reply.

Lily looked down at her hands folded tightly in her lap. She could feel James and Lestrange both looking at her, but she could not meet their gazes. She was holding her breath, unable to think of anything but the terror she had felt as Malfoy had advanced on her, an inhuman look in his eyes.

There was so much she had never told anyone. So much about that night, about what had really happened. And it had weighed heavily on her for seven years, eating away at her conscious and feeling her with either rage or guilt. She wanted to tell James. He deserved to know the truth – the full truth – but she just couldn't figure out how.

It affected more than just her. There were other lives at stake, other people who would be ruined by the truth. It was more than just her secret.

But was it a secret she would take to her grave? Or was it one she might be able to confide in James? Could she trust him?

"Answer the question, Miss Evans," Lestrange said harshly.

"Yes," she whispered. "I told Narcissa that I thought Malfoy was a bad influence on her. And I thought he would be a bad influence on her son."

"Lucius Malfoy was from a very old, very respected wizarding family," Lestrange said. "He knew our customs and our rules, he had known them since birth. Did you think you knew better?"

Lily didn't answer. How could she answer? What could she say that wouldn't condemn her? What could she say that Lestrange wouldn't twist into something foul?

But Lestrange didn't seem perturbed by her lack of response. Instead, he simply pressed on, "You didn't want him to influence his son, did you? And now he's _dead_."

"Objection!"

"Overruled."

"So I guess he can't be much of an influence at all." Lestrange came forward, resting his hands on the edge of the witness box and leaning into Lily's personal space. "You must have been thrilled."

Lily closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice steady as she replied, "I never hid my dislike for Malfoy, but I didn't kill him."

"You didn't hide your dislike for Lupin, either," Lestrange hissed.

"I loved him!" Lily argued, wiping tears from her eyes. "He was my best friend."

"And yet you never once tried to contact him for the three years he was gone," Lestrange sneered. "Do you so thoroughly ignore all of your friends after you argue with them? Or were you merely trying to make sure he wouldn't _influence_ anyone?"

"I didn't…"

"People you disagree with seem to have a habit of dying, don't they?"

"No, that's not…"

"But to stab him with a knife? What were you trying to prove, Miss Evans? Or was this just another attempt to pollute wizarding society with your Muggle notions? Couldn't even settled for a wizarding duel, could you?"

"I _didn't_ kill him!"

"Objection!" James shouted, but his cry was lost as Lestrange merely raised his own voice to continue his questions.

"You thought you were better than everyone else. Smarter, more intellectual… and more powerful. If people disagreed with you, then they had to be wrong. Generations of traditions and ideals meant nothing. It was inconceivable that you could be the one misled. Even though you were born to Muggles, even though you knew so little about our society, even though you had never even heard of Hogwarts until you were eleven… you knew better then the rest of us. Is that it?"

Lily didn't say anything, but inwardly she was agreeing with him. And she knew it made her sound arrogant and conceited, but she _did_ know better. A society filled with so much prejudice _was_ wrong.

"And now Mr. Lupin is dead. And his blood was found on your clothing and your skin, and it looked like he had fought back, but he was dead with a stab wound in his chest. And you were just standing there, staring at what you had done. You didn't even call the Aurors after you supposedly _found_ his body. Why? Were you gloating? Were you _happy_?"

"No!"

"At least you stabbed him in the chest and not in the back. How did it feel to stare into his eyes while you took his life?"

"Objection!" James tried again.

"Do you still think you're better than the rest of us, Miss Evans? Do you still think we should reorganize our society to fit your demands and your ideals? That we should only be friends with the people you think are good enough? That we should exclude everyone you don't like? And yet even your friends end up dead…"

The tears were burning in Lily's eyes, and slowly they started to seep out from underneath her tightly closed lids and trickle down her cheeks. She could see Remus' body, lifeless and bloodied, lying sprawled on the floor. She could smell the metallic scent of his blood and taste her own bitter horror and grief at the scene before. And she could remember exactly what it had felt like to come to his home and find him dead.

Murdered.

"No further questions," she heard Lestrange say, and she opened her eyes in time to watch him walk back to his desk, looking self-satisfied.

How could she ever beat him?

* * *

"I say you just hex him into oblivion," Sirius growled. "Did he see how smug he was at the end? And Bella sitting in the galleries watching? I thought she was going to start cackling in triumph. Bloody prejudiced gits."

"You can't hex him," Marlene said firmly, leaning back in her chair. They had obtained a small conference room and an hour recess to plan their closing arguments, and she could see that the stress was starting to get to James. Lestrange's cross-examination had been brutal, and James' infatuation with Evans' had made it even harder to watch as the other wizard drove the redhead to tears. Some small part of her was worried that James might completely lose it and actually follow Sirius' advice.

It wouldn't really help Evans' cause if her counsel started attacking people.

"You're not seeing the bigger picture, McKinnin," Sirius snapped. "Scum like that shouldn't be allowed in this society."

"You aren't seeing the bigger picture, Black," Marlene answered. "If James does something _that_ stupid, he'll lose the case and give Lestrange more reason to claim that blood traitors and Muggleborns are worthless."

"We poked holes in the evidence. Ringleton's testimony… that discredited Lestrange. And everything Dumbledore said…" James trailed off for a moment, then sighed. "I don't know if that is enough, though. Bones is in charge and…"

"He's a bloody wanker," Sirius interrupted. "They both are, Bones and Lestrange. Why can't everyone else see what they're doing?"

"I think they can," Marlene replied softly.

The trial had started out relatively well. In the beginning, at least, Bones had been following most of the rules, allowing only lines of questioning that were actually relevant to the trial, sustaining objections for anything against the rules of the court. But that had changed. With Ringleton's story discredited, with Dumbledore's testimony…

Bones hadn't even been pretending to offer a fair trial.

"Did you see the way the Wizengamot looked when Bones allowed Lestrange to ask all those questions?" Marlene murmured. "I think there are a few people who are rather convinced that this trial has been mishandled."

"And Bones will bully them into silence," Sirius muttered with a scowl.

"Maybe," Marlene replied, "but maybe not."

* * *

"The facts of this case are simple," Lestrange said, rising slowly to his feet and staring at the Wizengamot with a seriousness and a sense of gravity that James had not seen before. "On September 16th, Remus Lupin was found dead in his home, stabbed in the chest with a knife. There had been signs of a struggle, an indication that he had fought back. That he _wanted_ to live."

James glanced at Lily. Her eyes were on Lestrange, and her face was set into hard lines. But James could see the faint cracks there, and knew that, beneath her firm façade, she was trying very hard not to cry.

He'd become accustomed to watching her, studying her. It was a habit he had with every witch or wizard he represented, because he had long since learned that people couldn't keep up their masks all of the time, and if he was perceptive enough, he could find the real person underneath.

But Lily was different. He still couldn't understand her, even after all this time. And she annoyed him with her ceaseless lies and her half-truths and her constant evasions.

But he liked her.

A lot.

"The evidence in this case is straight-forward," Lestrange continued, and James switched his gaze to the other wizard. "Lily Evans was found standing over Remus Lupin's dead body. His blood was on her clothes. She says she found him like that, but she did not alert the Aurors. She did not alert anyone. She simply stood there."

Lily's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the chair, her knuckles turning white at the strength of her grip. James wanted to reach out offer her support, but there was nothing he could say or do.

The only way he could help her was to win this trial, to prove once and for all that not all purebloods were like the Malfoys or Lestranges and that he would help her get justice for Lupin's death.

"We know that she argued with the deceased frequently during the year leading up to his departure, and that she did not speak to him for the three years that he was gone. She did not attempt to write to him, she did not attempt to contact him by the Floo Network, she did not even attempt to find out if he was still alive. And yet it seems as though she believed that the mission he had taken from Albus Dumbledore was dangerous," he glanced at Lily, "so why wouldn't she have wanted to make sure he was still unharmed? Three years is a long time to ignore someone she _supposedly_ loved."

The members of the Wizengamot were all staring at Lily now, with a mixture of disgust and curiosity on their faces. It was as though she was some disturbing specimen, something not-quite-human, that they were studying.

There were a few witches and wizards, though, that were looking at Lily with an entirely different expression; ill-concealed glee. They wanted her to suffer, but did they want her to suffer because they believed that she was guilty or because she was Muggleborn? How many members of the Wizengamot were followers of Voldemort?

How many people in wizarding Britain were followers of this Dark wizard?

James knew his thoughts were sounding paranoid, but he also knew that they were on the brink of something significant, something dangerous and terrifying, something that would irrevocably alter their society. They had already drawn lines in the sand, but how many people were on his side, and how many were on Voldemort's?

"But Lily Evans' friendships have a tendency to end in tragedy," Lestrange was saying. "Just ask Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, who have lost their husband and father. Lily Evans told Mrs. Malfoy that Lucius was a bad person, that he would be a bad father. She has expressed her disdain for our culture and our societal norms, she has repeatedly indicated that she thinks she is better than the rest of us. But is she?"

_Yes_. The answer was caught in James' throat, stuck behind his teeth. He knew he couldn't say it, knew he couldn't interrupt Lestrange's closing arguments, but he wanted to. He wanted to answer that question because _yes_, Lily was better than most of them.

She was certainly better than Lestrange.

"Her parents were both Muggles. She had never heard of Hogwarts before receiving her letter of acceptance into the school. She didn't know anything about us, about our world, about our traditions that have been passed down for centuries." He gave Lily a contemptuous look, and she stared back defiantly. "She didn't know _anything_. And yet she came crashing into our world so sure that she knew best, that everyone who disagreed with her had to be wrong. And those who disagreed and refused to change their opinions… well, they ended up dead."

Lily turned her head then, looking away from Lestrange, and caught James' eye. Her own green eyes were filled with tears, but James could see the anger there as well.

And how could he blame her for being furious when her entire _worth_ was being called into question by a man most likely knew that she was innocent of this crime?

He tried to smile, but wasn't sure he succeeded.

Lily lowered her eyes.

"This is about getting justice for Remus Lupin, for a man who clearly wanted to live, who fought back with all his strength and lost anyway. This is about ensuring that his death does not go unpunished, that the woman who brutally stabbed him in the chest does not get away with her crime. But it is also about far more than that."

Lestrange paused for a moment, gazing at Lily and then at the witches and wizards in the audience who were all listening with abated breath. "This is about protecting our very society from those who would destroy it. Should we really allow Lily Evans to decide who is good and who is bad, who deserves to live and who should die? Is she better than the rest of us? Does she know more than we do? If you do not convict her for the murder of Remus Lupin, then you are allowing her to ruin everything we hold dear. So do the right thing, and find her guilty."

Lestrange walked back to his chair and sat down.

James rose slowly to his feet, and felt Marlene's hand on his arm. He looked down at her, and she offered a tentative smile and whispered, "Breathe."

James nodded once, then faced the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Lestrange is correct," he said, "the facts of this case are simple. Yes, Lily Evans was found in Remus Lupin's home, standing over his dead body. Yes, Lily Evans argued with Remus Lupin on multiple occasions. And yes, Lily Evans was once accused of killing Lucius Malfoy. But let's take a look at those facts more carefully."

He walked forward, scanning those sitting on the raised dais. Most expressions were either scornful or carefully neutral. Bones looked positively thrilled.

"Lily Evans was found in Remus Lupin's home. She went to visit him because he had asked her to. Because he had been afraid, he had been convinced that he was being followed. Something had happened on his mission – which, according to even Headmaster Dumbledore, _was_ a dangerous mission – and he needed help. He went to Miss Evans for that help. But she was too late."

He heard Lily's sharp intake of breath. He didn't want to hurt her, but this was the truth. She _had_ been too late to help him.

"She found him dead in his home. Frank Longbottom testified that when they arrested her, she was in shock. She was practically incoherent. Now, the murder weapon was not found anywhere in the home, and Mr. Lestrange would have you believe that Miss Evans had the presence of mind to remove the murder weapon, but not to leave the scene of the crime. But doesn't it make more sense that she did not have the presence of mind to do anything? She had just found that one of her closest friends, a man she had even dated, had been _murdered_. She was horrified and grieving."

"And then there is the issue of their arguments. Miss Evans has agreed that those arguments existed, and Auror Longbottom has confirmed this. However, both have testified that the basis for these arguments was that Miss Evans was worried that Mr. Lupin would get hurt on his missions. She was trying to protect him. After all, Alice Longbottom had already been killed by a Dark curse, so she had every reason to be afraid of losing more friends. So these arguments could hardly be a basis for killing Mr. Lupin."

"And last, there is, as many of you are no doubt aware, the question of Lucius Malfoy's death. Yes, Miss Evans was accused of his murder. But she was not convicted. Yet Mr. Lestrange has insisted on bringing up this past case several times and has treated it as though Miss Evans _was_ convicted. One of the underlying beliefs of our legal system is that, if someone is found innocent of a certain crime, they should be treated as though they are innocent. Mr. Lestrange has not done that. In fact, he has gone out of his way to ignore that particular fundamental belief, and yet he accuses _Miss Evans_ of challenging the customs of our society?"

"How has this trial been run? Have we followed all of the rules of our legal system? Have we allowed only relevant questions? Have we stopped counsel for badgering the witnesses? Have we prevented the asking of leading questions?"

"Mr. Potter!" Bones interrupted, his face flushed with fury, "Are you accusing…"  
"And isn't one of our customs that the counsel for the defense be allowed to finish the closing statements without interference?" James cut in quickly, and had to struggle very hard to keep the smirk off of his features as Bones gaped at him, unable to think of a reply.

Several members of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Is it Miss Evans, then, who is challenging our social mores?" James continued. "Robert Ringleton admitted to lying on the stand, to committing perjury, and I am sure we all read the multiple articles that stated _why_ he felt a need to do that. Sethos Avery could not provide a good reason for why he was supposedly outside of Lily Evans' home the day that Mr. Lupin had visited her, and neither could he give any description at all of what her home looked like. And Narcissa Malfoy herself implied that Mr. Lestrange had a prior grudge against Miss Evans. So ask yourselves, has this been a fair trial? And has it upheld all of the customs Mr. Lestrange is determined that we should protect?"

"How dare you!" Lestrange hissed. "I am not the one on trial."

James didn't answer. Instead, he pressed onwards, "Think about the evidence. There is not enough to convict Miss Evans of murdering Remus Lupin. That much is obvious. And this trial is not about Miss Evans' heritage and family, and it is not about past grievances. The prosecution has tried to confuse you with tricks and lies. But you do not have to listen. You do not have to do what Mr. Lestrange has asked. You do not have to follow the examples of others. You are members of the Wizengamot. This is your decision, and it should be based on what you believe from the evidence, not what… _others_" and here he glanced quickly at Bones, "are telling you to believe. I have presented the evidence as best I can, and all we can do is await your decision."

And he turned and walked back to the desk, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.


	20. The Last Missing Pieces

Chapter Twenty: The Last Missing Pieces

He was literally holding his breath.

Marlene was at his side, and he knew Sirius was sitting somewhere in the galleries, watching him. And Lily was hunched over in the defendant's chair, the chains still wrapped around her arms, holding her in place.

And James was holding his breath.

Lily looked at him, and he forced himself to breathe. To slowly exhale, to push the air from his lungs and then just as slowly take more oxygen in. It was a challenge, and even the slow breaths did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart.

He took another breath.

He had never been this anxious at any other trial. Sweat was clinging to his neck, and he had to concentrate to keep his hands from clenching into fists. His fingers were stretched out, pressed flat against the desk, and he was terrified.

And it wasn't even his life that was going to be so completely altered by this verdict.

He glanced over at Lily. He had never been this nervous before, but he had also never been this personally invested in the outcome.

He forced another breath.

"You know," Lily whispered, raising her eyes to meet James' gaze, "in the Muggle world, the decision to convict has to be unanimous."

James blinked. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "Why?"

Lily rolled her eyes at him. "Because you're changing someone's life, James," she answered flatly. "You're putting them away, locking them up for _years_. Maybe their entire life. You want to be sure you're doing the right thing." She glanced away from him, towards the witches and wizards still sitting on the Wizengamot's raised platform. "You want to make sure that they are guilty."

Her voice was low and quiet, soft enough that only James and Marlene could hear her. James thought idly that it was probably for the best; it wouldn't help her case if the Wizengamot could hear her insulting wizarding legal traditions.

They'd be even more inclined to find her guilty simply out of spite.

He struggled for another breath.

"There is a room," Lily murmured. "A jurors' room. And the jury – the ordinary citizens picked to determine innocence or guilt – go into that room and discuss everything. They try to come to some sort of… agreement. They have to, in a criminal trial. If they can't agree, they can't convict."

James considered this. He remembered enough about the Muggle system to know that the jury was randomly selected, and he had always found that odd. Who knew what kinds of crazy people would end up on the jury? How could they trust something as important as determining innocence and guilt to random people with no legal training and no experience in this sort of matter?

But the idea of residing to a separate room and debating matters…

That was interesting.

The Wizengamot had a few minutes to think over the trial, to review the evidence, and then they would vote. In front of everyone. Without discussion or debate, without anything but the facts as they had been presented and their own beliefs.

They would vote, and that vote would either convict or absolve Lily of all charges.

He forced himself to take another breath.

"James…"

Lily was looking at him again. He wasn't quite sure when she had started calling him James instead of Mr. Potter. He had no idea how long it had been since she had stopped thinking about him with such formality. And he couldn't help but wonder when she had finally realized that he was different from the rest of them, that being a pureblood didn't mean he was going to turn on her.

"Yes?" he said, prompting her to continue her thought.

"I… thank you," Lily murmured. "I just want to thank you for… for everything. No matter how this ends up… I…" Her green eyes were filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly and instead looked down at the chains wrapped tightly around her arms. "Thank you," she said again.

James smiled. "You're welcome."

And he slowly took another breath.

Then Bones rose to his feet, and James stopped breathing entirely.

"Have the members of the Wizengamot had enough time to reach their own decision?" he asked, his black eyes sweeping over everyone. His question was answering nods and murmurs of assent, and he smiled coolly. "Good." He paused, looking at the court scribe. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," the young wizard answered, his quill poised over his scroll of parchment, ready to record the outcome of the vote.

"In the matter of the trial of Lily Evans, accused of the murder of Remus Lupin, would all those in favor of conviction raise their hands?" Bones instructed, and several hands immediately flew into the air.

James frowned, frantically trying to count them. It was around half, that much was clear, but he couldn't tell if it was more or less. He had only managed to count about two-third of them when the court scribe wrote the number down on his parchment and the witches and wizards in question lowered their arms.

"And would all those in favor of acquittal raise their hands," Bones said with a growl.

The remaining wizards and witches raised their hands, and this time James could see clearly that it was _more_ than half.

Not by much. Only a few votes. But still…

"Very well, very well," Bones said sourly, his expression one of utmost loathing as he glared down at Lily. "Cleared of all charges. You are free to go, Evans."

And the chains magically unwound themselves from her arms.

James found himself practically gasping for air.

The courtroom was filled with flashes of light and shouts as reporters scrambled desperately to get photographs and yelled for statements. Several reporters were surrounding Bones and other members of the Wizengamot, and over the din of their voices, James could just barely make out some of the questions being asked.

"Are you confident in the Wizengamot's decision?"

"Do you consider this the correct ruling?"

"Do you believe Evans is innocent as she claims?"

They were suddenly surrounded on all sides. Lily had stumbled to her feet, a look of utter disbelief in her eyes, the tears that she had pushed away just moments before now sliding down her cheeks. People were moving towards her, reporters yelling out questions, jotting down notes, grabbing at her, asking for interviews.

James felt frozen.

He had won.

Lily looked incredibly bewildered and lost, as though she had no idea what to do now, and then Marlene was at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her away from the chair, from the chains, from the Wizengamot.

"James! Come on," Marlene snapped as she forced her way through the crowd.

"Do you think Lestrange was out to get you?" one reporter demanded, blocking their path and preventing them from leaving the room.

"If you didn't kill Lupin, who did?" another one asked.

Those questions and the look of panic in Lily's eyes brought James forcibly out of his bewildered thoughts, and he moved purposefully forward, placing himself between Lily and the reporters. "We have the utmost respect for the Wizengamot and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and feel confident in our belief that they will continue looking into Mr. Lupin's tragic death," he said.

Then he took Lily's hand.

She smiled at him, a real smile that so rarely graced her features. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Come on, Lily," he said quietly. "Let's go."

Several more flashes of light nearly blinded him, and he had to blink a few times to see clearly again. The reporters around him were writing furiously on their notepads, and the photographers all seemed to have their cameras aimed at James and Lily's interlocked fingers.

James felt Marlene's hand on his shoulder and heard her whisper in his ear, "Looks like they'll finally start running stories about your personal life that don't have anything to do with me."

James looked down at Lily's hand in his own.

"I'm alright with that," he answered.

Then he took another breath, and lead Lily out of the courtroom.

* * *

The four of them were standing in James' office, all a little unsure what they were supposed to be doing now. For Sirius and Marlene, it was the first time either of them had really interacted with Lily. For Lily, it was the first time she had been out of custody since Remus' death. And for James, it was the first time since the trial began that he felt like he could actually relax for a moment.

Then Sirius said, "So, we still have to figure out who actually killed Lupin and what the object he had stolen was."

"Thanks," James muttered. "Way to ruin the moment there, Sirius."

"It's not over," Sirius said unapologetically.

"He's right," Lily agreed. "It's not over. The war… Voldemort… it's only just begun again."

"At least we won this round," Marlene replied. "That's something."

"Yeah… Merlin, I can't believe I'm free," Lily whispered. She looked up at James, and he felt his insides twist into knots at the expression of gratitude on her face. "I can't believe it," she said again.

"Well, James is quite good at what he does," Marlene answered, but James and Lily both paid her very little attention.

Lily took a few steps towards James until she was standing right in front of him. She kissed him gently on the cheek. "Thank you," she said, and started to turn away.

He caught her arm and she paused, turned back around to face him again. And without really thinking, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips, his hands coming to rest on her hips. She stood completely still for a moment, and then he felt her lean into him and return the kiss.

He pulled back a moment later and said, "You're welcome."

"Oh, bloody hell," he heard Sirius grumbled under his breath. "Now I've gone and lost my best mate to a girl. Figures this would happen."

Marlene laughed softly. "I'm sure you'll find your own girl eventually, and you can snog her in the office all you like. Until then, let's leave James and Miss Evans to… _talk_. We can catch up with them tomorrow."

Lily blushed a furious red at Marlene's pointed comment and Sirius' responding bark of laughter, and James sent his two friends a sharp look. But he found himself now holding Lily's hands, and he didn't bother to let go, even as his own skin was suffused by the faint pink of embarrassment.

Sirius grinned and winked at him in response, before following Marlene from the room.

At the door, James heard him ask, "So, McKinnon… any chance _you_ want to be that girl I'm supposedly going to find eventually?"

Marlene turned towards him and leaned in, resting her hand on the doorframe behind him. With a pretty smile, she answered softly, "Not even if you were the last man in the world, Black."

Then they were gone, and James and Lily were alone.

James glanced back at Lily, and noticed that she was still flushed with mortification, and her eyes were downcast. She pulled her hand out of his grip and reached her fingers up to touch her lips.

This diffident version of her was so different from the one he had encountered in their initial meetings at the beginning of the trial. And while he liked the stubbornness and defiance he had seen then, he also found her sudden shyness oddly endearing.

At least he wasn't the only one who didn't quite know where they stood now. They still had secrets they hadn't shared with each other, and despite James' continued attempts to prove that he was one of the good guys, he couldn't help but feel like she was judging him against all the other purebloods she had met.

He wanted her to trust him, and he knew that, despite everything, she was a good person. One of the best he had ever met, actually.

And Frank Longbottom had been right. He'd fallen in love with her, just like everyone else did.

But unlike everyone else, he wasn't going to leave just because things were going to be difficult.

"I think one of Voldemort's supporters is defecting," James said.

Lily looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"You asked me once how I learned everything about Malfoy and Voldemort and the plans from seven years ago. And I didn't tell you then, but…" James gestured for her to sit down, and she did so, still watching him. He took his own seat behind his desk and continued, "One of Voldemort's supporters told me. That's how I know."

"Who was it? What happened?" Lily asked eagerly, leaning forward.

"It was the day that Ringleton testified," James explained. "I was frustrated with everything, so I went for a walk. I got… attacked, I guess you would say." He closed his eyes, remembering. "I was caught entirely by surprise," he admitted with a frown.

"But you weren't hurt?" Lily pressed.

James opened his eyes again. "No. Just disarmed. The wizard was wearing a mask and a cloak and I couldn't… I couldn't be sure who it was. But he's the one who told me everything. And I told Sirius and Marlene, and they told Dumbledore."

"I don't understand," Lily murmured. "Why would someone defect but hide their identity? Why not just go to Dumbledore?"

"Maybe he didn't think Dumbledore could keep him safe," James answered. "Or maybe he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to defect. Or maybe… I don't know."

"And you have no idea who it was?"

Here James hesitated. He hadn't even told Sirius his suspicions, and he knew that Dumbledore hadn't, either. He was afraid of how his friend would react. Would Sirius try to reach out to Regulus? Or would he believe the worst of his brother and assume it was all a trick?

Or, more likely than either of those, would he lose his head completely and try to attack Voldemort in some misguided sense of duty to protect his younger brother?

He would trust Sirius with his life. But he also had to admit that the other wizard _was_ reckless.

And what if he was wrong? What if it wasn't Regulus? What if he had been completely mistaken – although he was fairly certain that wasn't actually the case – and then he got Sirius' hopes up just to dash them all over again?

Still… he wanted Lily to trust him, and how could he ask her to do that if he didn't trust her?

"I think… I think it might have been Regulus Black."

Lily's eyes widened. "Have you told his brother?"

"Not yet," James said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. "I don't know how to tell him. I don't know how he'll react."

Lily reached across the desk and took his hand. "We'll figure something out," she said.

"We?" James repeated with a wry grin.

Lily looked uncomfortable, but then she lifted her chin and said defiantly, "Yes. _We_. You and I. The trial is over but you're still trying to help me. So doesn't that mean we're in this together?"

"Yes," James agreed, "I guess it does."

* * *

Frank was standing awkwardly in the doorway of her home, and Lily had no idea how to respond. The tension between them was thick, and as she opened her mouth to say something, _anything_, she found she couldn't form any words.

Finally, she said, "Come in," and stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

He took a few steps and then stood there, and she was struck by the odd sense of déjà vu. Remus, too, had looked uneasy and out of place when he had last visited her right before his death.

"Potter did a good job," Frank said slowly, looking around the room. "He managed to stop Lestrange and I… I was impressed." His gaze flicked up to Lily's face and then just as quickly moved away. "But be careful. We all know what happens when Lestrange gets upset."

Lily nodded, her thoughts running back to Alice. "Yes," she murmured.

They were both silent for a moment.

"Dumbledore sent me an owl," Frank said. "He wants to meet with me tomorrow. He said he wants to meet with Potter, Black, and McKinnon as well. Did he owl you, too?"

Lily shook her head. "No," she answered, and Frank frowned, clearly not expecting that response. But she had no doubt that Dumbledore wanted to talk to them all about the war and Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix, and Lily didn't need to sit in on a conversation about that.

She already knew the basics. She had lived through this war once, after all.

She also knew that Dumbledore was waiting for her to come to him. He wasn't going to drag her into this mess unless she was willing, because she had already suffered so much from it. She had to be the one to tell him that she was ready to fight this war, and she certainly hadn't been ready in the past.

But she was ready now, and part of that was certainly due to James.

She let out a slow breath. She had never told Frank the details. She'd never told him that Malfoy was to become Minister of Magic, she'd never told him how much she knew about Voldemort's plans, she'd never told him what had really happened the night Malfoy died.

Well, she'd never told anyone _that_ particular story.

It hadn't been that she hadn't trusted him. If she hadn't trusted him implicitly, she wouldn't have gone to him that night, wouldn't have asked him for an alibi to save her own life. Of course, it had been more than just her own life that had been at risk, but he hadn't known that.

And Alice had paid the price.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "Frank, I… I'm sorry. I never meant for Alice to… and I never meant to hurt you, either…"

"I know," Frank answered quietly. "I know, Lily. And what happened to Alice wasn't… it wasn't your fault." He hesitated, then said slowly, "I never blamed you for that."

Lily sighed. She knew Frank hadn't blamed her, not really. But that hadn't stopped her from blaming herself.

"I just wanted to keep you all safe. But now Alice and Remus…" She trailed off. "I guess I didn't do a very good job of that."

"Lily…" Frank started and then stopped. His expression hardened, but something was wavering in his gaze. He looked uncomfortable, as though he didn't want to have this conversation but knew that he had to, and so was determined to see it through to the end.

But Lily knew what he was going to ask, and she spared him from actually having to verbalize the question. He had spent seven years wondering, and even if she couldn't tell him the full truth, she could at least tell him part of it.

"I can't tell you all of what happened, Frank," she said. "It isn't just my secret. There are other people involved and I just… I _can't_ tell you. But please, you have to believe that I…it wasn't a good thing. Killing is never a good thing. But it was… necessary. A necessary evil. I… there wasn't… there _wasn't_ another way. It was self-defense. I was protecting myself and… and others."

"Tell me you didn't hunt him down," Frank said quietly. "Tell me it wasn't cold-blooded murder."

"It wasn't," Lily answered immediately. "I swear to you, Frank, I didn't plot to kill Malfoy. I _didn't_." She sagged, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. The guilt that had been her constant companion for seven years was still there, but now that she had admitted the truth – or as much of the truth as she could – to both James and Frank, she felt a little bit better. As though this pain was somehow a little bit easier to bear, now that she wasn't keeping it locked tightly inside.

Still… she had killed. Even if there had been no choice. She had killed, and she had lied about it.

"Why couldn't you just tell the truth at the trial?" Frank asked. "Why did you need the alibi?"

Lily ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I… if I had admitted to it, Lestrange would have… Frank, Malfoy was _important_. And I knew that, I knew how much Voldemort had resting on him. I knew that if I told people what had happened, Lestrange would find a way to… to make it seem like cold-blooded murder. And I just… I couldn't let that happen. He would have destroyed me, and you and Alice and Remus and…" She trailed off.

There was so much more she wanted to explain, but she couldn't.

"And whoever these other people you're determined to protect are… Lestrange would have destroyed them, too?" Frank said.

Lily nodded. "And… well, think about it Frank. Do you really think the Wizengamot would have believed my story? You know the prejudice out there. You've seen it."

Frank inclined his head in agreement. "I know. But I… I committed perjury for you. I broke the law. I'm an Auror, Lily and I… You were my friend, Lily, and I lied for you. And at the time, I did it because we were friends. I didn't need any other reason. But now… I have to know whether or not I did the right thing. I have to know that you didn't deserve Azkaban. And I have to know that this was the only way you could protect the innocent people involved."

"It was. I promise you, Frank. There was no other way. I didn't… I didn't have a choice. I didn't want this, but I didn't have a choice."

"And Lily," Frank added, "I need to know that you didn't have anything to do with Remus' death."

"I didn't." Some part of her wanted to yell at him, to scream, to cry out. How could he ask her that? How could he possibly believe that she would do anything to harm Remus? "I didn't," she said again, anger seeping into her words.

But then she shook her head and felt the anger drain away because another part of her knew that Frank had no real reason to believe her. Yes, she loved Remus. But she had killed and she had lied about it, and Alice was dead now.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't understand… after Alice died… how much you needed revenge. After Remus… I get it now. I get what it feels like to… to want to make someone pay for what happened."

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Frank answered.

Lily nodded. It did hurt. It felt almost unbearable. It was worse than the guilt of the last seven years and the anger at how much her life had been torn apart by other people's prejudice. It ate away at her, filling her with fury and a desperate desire to hurt the people who had hurt her.

It wasn't right, though. She didn't want revenge, not really. She wanted justice.

And she could only hope that one day they would get it.

"I'm sorry," she said again, and though she wasn't entirely sure what she was apologizing for this time, she knew most of her apologies were for Alice.

Frank shrugged awkwardly and looked away. "She might have died anyway," he said, apparently sensing Lily's thoughts. "We all might have. It took me a while to realize that, but… if you hadn't… stopped… Malfoy, if he'd taken over the Minsitry and Voldemort had come to power… we would have been in an all-out war seven years ago, Lily, and Alice and I would have been fighting it with you and Remus and Dumbledore. And we all might have died."

Lily nodded and rubbed her eyes, brushing away the tears.

"Voldemort did it. Voldemort is responsible for all of this," Frank continued. "And we'll make him pay. One way or another… we'll make him pay."

* * *

Dumbledore glanced up warily as Alastor Moody entered his circular office. The _Daily Prophet_ was spread out on his desk, and almost every article seemed to carry some news about the trial. He was pleased that everything had gone the way it had, pleased that Lily had avoided Azkaban once more and that more people were aware of Voldemort's slow and steady bid for power. But this also meant that the war would soon be starting in earnest, and that worried him.

The grim expression on the venerable Auror's face worried him, too.

He set aside the newspaper and studied his old friend. Moody had seen a lot in his lifetime. It was the case with all Aurors – they grew too old, too quickly, constantly forced to confront the baser aspects of human nature. But Moody had been an integral part of the Order of the Phoenix, and the things he had seen were far worse than what an average Auror would witness.

So for him to look so grave now…

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"Margaret Moon was found dead in her flat in London," Moody said heavily. "The Muggle authorities can't figure out how she died. They said she was perfectly healthy, just… dead. With a look of terror on her face. As though she had died of fright."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an article torn from a newspaper. It was clearly a Muggle newspaper; the people in the photograph under the headline were not moving.

He held it out to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore took it slowly, and gazed down at the article. He had never met Mrs. Moon, had never spoken to her. He remembered her daughter vaguely, though, and his memories of Esmeralda were of a sweet, good-natured girl who deserved so much more than this.

No one deserved to have a parent murdered, but Esmie was so kind and so unassuming and so…

He pinched the bridge of his nose. She deserved better.

But Lestrange had threatened to kill her mother if she told anyone about his deal with Ringleton, and so this death was hardly unsurprising.

"Does Esmeralda Moon know? She's probably in danger, too," Dumbledore said.

"A couple of Aurors are with her right now," Moody replied. "Not sure what they'll decide to do."

"And the Ringletons?" Dumbledore asked.

Moody hesitated, then said, "Their place was empty. Looks like they packed up and left. Good thing, too, or they would probably have been dead by now as well."

Dumbledore looked over at Fawkes, feeling far older than he had in a very long time. "Assuming Voldemort hasn't caught up to them yet," he said softly. Even running might not be safe, and it was unlikely they would be able to hide from Voldemort or his followers forever.

* * *

"You lost. Twice, Rodolphus. _Twice_. How can we face him now?" Bellatrix snarled, fury and fear blending together in her voice. This was supposed to be their chance to prove that they were the most loyal of the Dark Lord's followers, and yet her husband had managed to ruin everything.

_Again_.

The only saving grace in any of this was that Bones had lost, too. Seven years ago, the other wizard had profited from their defeat, taking the leading position on the Wizengamot, a position that should have gone to Rodolphus. But Bones, too, had been unable to secure a conviction this time around. Bones, too, was culpable in their loss.

And Bones would not win the Dark Lord's favor.

"We shouldn't have put Ringleton on the stand," Bellatrix continued. "We shouldn't…" She paused, shook her head. Her dark hair tumbled over even darker eyes, and her lips curled into a sneer. "We should have stopped that idiot girl from telling my fool cousin about what you had done."

Rodolphus shrugged. "At least we've taken care of _that_. And we'll get rid of the Ringletons, too."

"Taken care of…?" Bellatrix hissed. "Who cares that the Moon girl's mother is dead? We _failed_ the Dark Lord." She folded her arms over her chest, her fear written plainly on her features. "Avery did, too. And even Narcissa. All of them… they should have done better." She trailed off for a moment, then said heavily, "We should have done better."

"Your sister didn't help us any," Rodolphus muttered. "Just like at the last trial. Put her on the stand and all she does is ruin everything. Potter got the better of her."

Bellatrix frowned. "He did," she agreed reluctantly, hating to admit it. She might have had a begrudging respect for the younger wizard – because the Potter family had been as pure as they come – but they'd been blood traitors, too, and James Potter had clearly thrown his lot in with Mudbloods and half-breeds. Any respect she could have felt for him was gone, replaced by utter loathing. It was fools like him that allowed society to waste away, to become overrun by Evans and other filth.

But Potter _had_ been good at the trial. Cissy had made one too many mistakes in that cross-examination, and Potter had used her to plant seeds of doubt. Just like he had with Avery and Ringleton.

And Longbottom had turned on them completely.

Her anger was rising rapidly, and she felt the desire to destroy something. To hex someone, to make them scream, to make them feel what she was feeling now…

Evans had gone free.

Evans had gone _free_.

"You lost," she spat again, glaring at her husband.

"And the Dark Lord won't be pleased, will he?" a new voice said mockingly.

Bellatrix whirled around, her hand dropped immediately to the wand concealed in the pockets of her robes. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the newcomer, and distaste appeared in her expression.

"What do you want, Greyback?" Rodolphus demanded fiercely, drawing his own wand and coming to stand by his wife.

Fenrir Greyback stepped further into the room, his features twisted into a cruel smirk. He was clearly enjoying their fear, and Bellatrix knew he had only come to gloat.

"What are you going to tell the Dark Lord, Lestrange?" he asked with a sneer. "Are you going to beg for his mercy or just let him kill you? I can't imagine he will make it quick _or_ painless."

"The Dark Lord knows I am his most loyal servant!" Bellatrix answered shrilly, defiantly.

"Does he?" Greyback replied, his voice filled with disbelief. "Really? And this is how you prove your loyalty? By repeatedly mucking it up?"

Bellatrix glanced down and noticed that he, too, was holding his wand tightly in one hand.

"Don't talk to me about mucking things up," Rodolphus snarled. "It's filth like you, _werewolf_, that should be gotten rid of."

"The Dark Lord seems to think I have some worth," Greyback replied softly. "After all, I'm the one he tasked with following Lupin, wasn't I? And I killed him and removed the murder weapon and that Mudblood walked right into that room and just stood there and you _still_ failed to get her convicted."

"You were tasked with finding what Lupin had stolen!" Bellatrix answered. "And you didn't manage that, did you?" She felt a savage satisfaction at the brief look of trepidation in Greyback's eyes. She wasn't the only one who had failed the Dark Lord. He hadn't managed to recover what Lupin had taken. He hadn't managed to complete his task.

"And you killed him," Rodolphus added. "You should have kept him alive when you realized he no longer had what he had stolen. But you killed Lupin instead…"

"He would never have told us where he had hidden it," Greyback defended himself, but there was now definite unease in his eyes.

Bellatrix took a step forward. "The Dark Lord could have made him talk. The Dark Lord can make _anyone_ talk. But you killed Lupin."

"He fought back," Greyback spat. "It wasn't supposed to end like that. We struggled and…"

"And your orders were to recover the object," Bellatrix interrupted. "You _failed_. You lost our only lead to the stolen object. And the Dark Lord wants it back, you know he does. I don't think he will be too pleased with you."

"I believe," a snake-like voice hissed as a forth person appeared with an abrupt crack in the center of the room and red eyes swept over the other three, "that he is not too pleased with _any_ of you."

* * *

AN: Alright, folks. The next chapter will finally reveal _all_ of what happened the night Malfoy died and who now has the missing object that Remus had stolen. But I'd love to hear people's guesses before then. If you have a theory, it would be awesome if you would leave it in a review.


	21. Those Seven Minutes

Chapter Twenty-One: Those Seven Minutes

Lily stood in the lavish parlor, feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable and out of place. The grandeur of the Malfoy Manor presented a stark contrast to the life she had been living for the past seven years. It was one more reminder, she reflected with a slight bitterness, of how she and Narcissa had taken very different paths.

The other witch stood opposite her. She was a little surprised that Narcissa had agreed to speak to her at all given how much animosity the blonde aristocrat still harbored for her. But Narcissa had agreed, and she was now standing here, feeling suddenly so much more unsure than she had at any point since that night seven years ago.

She had always prided herself on being strong-willed and stubborn. They weren't often considered particularly good traits by everyone else, but it at least meant that she had a set of morals and she stuck to them, no matter what. But somehow, since meeting James, everything had changed, and she could not stop the combination of admiration and pity that filled her chest as she gazed at her former friend.

Shouldn't she feel anger? Shouldn't she want revenge? For everything Narcissa had done to her… why didn't she feel those things anymore?

It was Narcissa who broke the silence. "Do you have anything to say, Evans, or have you just come to muck up my respectable house with your presence?"

"I keep thinking about that night," Lily answered quietly. She pushed a few strands of red hair out of her eyes and let out a long breath. "I keep thinking about what you did. About what _we_ did. I don't think I ever really appreciated just how much you hated them."

Narcissa frowned slightly, lines appearing on her otherwise perfect skin. "You have no idea what you are talking about," she said, her tone cold.

"Don't I?" Lily countered. She shook her head, looked away briefly. "Did you destroy it like you said you would?"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?" she asked sharply.

Lily sighed. She didn't want to have to elaborate. She didn't want to be forced to spell out her questions when she knew perfectly well that Narcissa was aware of the reason for her visit. The blonde was intelligent and perceptive, far more than most people gave her credit for. She knew what had happened that night, just like she knew why Remus had died.

The redhead sighed again. She just wanted answers. She just wanted to know why her best friend had been killed. She had a general idea, but the specifics… she needed Narcissa's answers for that.

But to get the answers, that meant she had to go back seven years and address that first question.

"Why did you do it?" she said again.

Narcissa considered her for a long moment, then said, "Wait here." She walked stiffly from the room, without sparing Lily another glance.

Lily almost sagged in relief. She took a few steps to the nearest armchair and sank into it. Narcissa had not invited her to sit down when she first entered the Manor, and part of her wanted to stay standing, just to prove that she could do it. If Narcissa was not going to be gracious enough to offer even the barest civility, Lily certainly didn't want to show her own weakness by asking for it.

But now she was too tired to stand. Azkaban had worn away at her strength, just as conversations with James had worn away at her stubbornness. And Remus' death…

That, it seemed, was wearing away at her soul.

She just needed the truth.

Narcissa reentered the room. She was carrying a bundled blue shawl in her hands, and she stared at it for a brief moment before looking at Lily.

"I kept it. It was foolish, I know. I meant to destroy it at the first possible opportunity, but…" She trailed off with a shrug. "My husband and the father of my son had just been killed. I guess I was not thinking clearly."

Lily extended her arms shakily towards the shawl. Narcissa reached out and dropped the cloth into her waiting hands.

"I took it home. I snapped it into pieces and wrapped it in a shawl Lucius had given me for a recent birthday. I hid it away in a trunk where I knew no one would ever look."

Lily unwrapped the shawl slowly, feeling the feather-light fabric slide through her fingers. She held it on her lap, carefully pulling away the pieces until she revealed the object hidden within.

The fragmented pieces of her original wand.

* * *

_She wanders aimlessly, exhausted and scared from the events of the past few days. Malfoy knows what Remus is, and that terrifies her more than anything. She doesn't know how he's learned the truth, but it doesn't really matter. She knows what he plans to do with it, and the very thought of it makes her sick._

_But she doesn't know what to do. Does she tell Remus? How can she do that to him, how can she worry him with this? There is nothing either of them can do, so can she really bring herself to add yet another burden to his too-thin shoulders? And yet, it is his life, and he has a right to know that Malfoy knows._

_She continues to wander. She cannot face Remus now, which was why she was at the pub by herself. But Malfoy was there, and his presence had only made things worse._

_She knows, intellectually, that she should be cold. The night air is chilly, and a strong wind rushes through the branches of the trees. But the faint haze of alcohol-induced stupor had fallen over her, and she can only smile faintly, numb. The alcohol has given her a brief respite from her fears, and maybe for these few minutes, she'll have peace of mind._

_She knows it is close to midnight, she has been walking for nearly an hour. She should go home, go to sleep. Face these problems tomorrow._

_But then she hears the footsteps on the ground behind her, and turns, surprised. The pleasant humming in her mind is gone abruptly, replaced by a vicious, all-consuming hatred for the man who appears before her, moonlight glistening off his white-blonde hair. He pauses when he looks at her, surprise widening his eyes, and then a sneer twists his lips._

"_Evans," he spits._

_And then, before she can react, he is closing the space between them, looking over her. She shrinks back quickly, then tries to summon her courage. But she's still dizzy, and the world is fuzzy and moving in slow motion._

"_You went to Narcissa," Malfoy growls, shoving her backwards. She stumbles but stays upright and easily side-steps his next attempt to push her to the ground._

"_Malfoy, what you talking about?" she asks sharply, trying frantically to clear her head, but she can't think, can't understand anything. Why is he here? Why is standing so close to her, close enough that she can smell the alcohol on his breath._

_Is he drunk, too?_

"_You spoke to Narcissa. You told her what I was doing. She asked me about it, she wanted… she listened to you. To you! You're nothing. Trash. Mudblood. And she… she _listened_…"_

_He grabs her wrist and she pulls backwards, tripping over herself. She is willing her body to move, but it won't obey her commands, and the rush of oxygen that suddenly leaves her lungs only serves to heighten her panic. She feels the hot burning in her eyes again, and more pain as his grip on her wrist tightens, wrenching her arm the wrong way._

_She fumbles for her wand with her free hand, relief flooding through her as her fingers close around the slim wood. She brings the wand up quickly, fiercely, but the red light that bursts from the tip does nothing to stop Malfoy. He does not even seem to notice the blood on the side of his face._

"_You filth," he snarls. "You're always acting like you're better than everyone else, but you're not. You're nothing, nothing at all."_

_She sucks in a breath and tries to pull away from him again, but his body is pressed against hers, his warm breath on her face and neck. The hand holding her wrist moves, and her arm is brought up in front of her, pressed against her chest. His other hand rests on her shoulder, and then slides down towards her stomach, and…_

_And suddenly she is completely sober._

_She can't form a single coherent thought save for the overwhelming need to get away from him. Need to get away from this place, from his hands on her skin, from the smell of smoke that lingers in the air and brings up bile in her throat._

_She kicks him, hard. He groans and releases her, and she brings her wand up again, ready to attack, ready to protect herself, ready to do whatever is necessary to get away from him._

_The clock on the distant tower strikes midnight._

_He backhands her and she starts falling…_

_But steadies herself. He is moving towards her again, eyes wide, pupils dilated, and the inhuman malice in his eyes scares her. She can't help but wonder if he is even aware of what he is doing, if he is aware of anything at all. _

"_Please stop," she begs, but she knows it won't make a difference._

"_Trash," he says again, his words slurred. "Filth. Muck."_

_Then his lips are on hers, forceful and demanding, and his fingers curl into her robes, going places she desperately does not want them to go, and the world is spinning in front of her, blackness encroaching on her vision. This can't b happening, it has to be some sort of nightmare, a bad dream, and she'll wake up…_

_But she doesn't. She's trapped and crying now, or trying to, but his lips are cutting off every sounds she could make and she is pushing, clawing at him, nails scraping into his skin, but he doesn't notice, doesn't care, and he's too strong, she can't get free._

"_Lucius?"_

_He stops, frozen at the sound of Narcissa' voice. Over his shoulder, Lily can see the blonde witch standing there, her features illuminated by the faint yellow glow of street light. Her eyes are wide and shocked, her mouth is open ever so slightly, as though she wants to say something but can't think of the words._

_One of Lucius' arms drops to his side and the other comes up to Lily's throat. "Cissy," he says, even as his fingers bite into Lily's skin, twisting painfully into the loose strands of hair that fall over her shoulders. "It's not what you think."_

_His words are no longer slurred, but he is not letting go of Lily, and instead the rage in his eyes is growing, his lips pressing into a thin line, his fingers closing tightly, so tightly that Lily can't breath…_

_And she reacts, lifting her wand and gasping out the spell, numb with horror and disbelief, not entirely aware of what she is doing. She just wants it to _end_, and the flash of green lights up the air, lights up Narcissa's bewildered expression, lights up Malfoy's blank stare. Everything is washed in green, and then Malfoy is falling._

_And the street is silent._

_But only for a moment._

"_Murderer!" Narcissa screams, launching herself forward and raking her nails over Lily's face, apparently forgetting about magic, about her own wand. "You killed him. You _killed_ him!"_

_She pushes Narcissa away. "Cissy, please," she whispers. "I didn't mean to. I didn't have a choice. Didn't you _see_ what he was doing?"_

_But Narcissa isn't listening. She grabs Lily by the hair and yanks her forward. "I love him," she spits. "But you could not stand that, could you? You kept baiting him, you mocked him. You couldn't even try… and now you killed him? How could you? How _could_ you?"_

_She is crying, great big tears sliding from her eyes and falling down her cheeks, and all Lily can think is that Narcissa doesn't get to be the victim, not now. Not after what has just happened, what Malfoy has tried to do. What he almost succeeded in doing.__  
_

_She slaps Narcissa. Hard._

_Narcissa reels back, lifting one hand to her face. Delicate fingers run over the skin that will show a bruise tomorrow, and her tear-filled eyes seem to lose their hatred. For just a moment, she stares almost sympathetically at Lily._

_"You _saw_," Lily says again. "You saw what he was doing, what he tried to do. How can you pretend not to know what kind of person he was? How can you…?"__  
_

_Narcissa shakes her head. "Rudolphus will have your soul for this," she says bluntly, her eyes on Malfoy. "He'll ruin you and everything you hold dear. Remus, Frank, Alice..." She lets out a long breath. "I loved him," she says. "Don't you understand that? I _loved_ him."__  
_

_Lily is silent. She cannot deny the truth in Narcissa's words, Lestrange will destroy her if he can prove that she has done this. It doesn't matter that it was in self-defense, doesn't matter that Malfoy had been trying to rape and maybe even kill her. It just matters that he is dead now, and Lily is a worthless Muggleborn who deserves to suffer.__  
_

_He will feed her soul to the Dementors, and just to torment her even more, he will make sure she knows that he is going to destroy her friends as well. Narcissa is right.__  
_

_"Oh, God... no..." she breathes, horrified._

_Narcissa says nothing, just stares at her coldly._

_Lily meets Narcissa's gaze, fear and anger warring for control in her chest. "Cissy," she says again, then stops and looks away. "You know what he is," she says, and it is a simple statement of fact. "You know what he's done. You know what he plans to do."_

_Narcissa nods. "Yes." She hesitates, then, "Give me your wand."_

_Lily gapes blankly._

"_You will be the first suspect, and if you run, it will only be a sign of your guilt. And there is nowhere you can go where Rodolphus won't find you. Where the Dark Lord won't find you. Come up with an alibi if you can. But give me your wand. It is the main evidence that can link you to this. I will get rid of it."_

_"Why are you helping me?" Lily whispers. "If they find out that you've done this… Bellatrix or the others… you _know_ what they'll do to you. Why would you help me?"_

_Narcissa rushes forward, fury in her eyes. Caught by surprise, Lily falls, Narcissa's weight slamming into her. Her wrist moves beneath her, twisting painfully, and she hears the breaking of glass as her watch shatters._

_It is seven minutes past midnight._

_Naricissa blinks once, looks down at the fallen redhead. "I hate you," she says, her words laced with a venom beyond anything Lily has ever heard from her before. "I hope you rot in hell. I hope you spend the rest of your life alone. I _hate_ you." She snatches Lily's wand away from the surprised redhead and adds, "But _he_ won't win, either. I won't let him."_

_And Lily understands, and she flees._

* * *

The things James had questioned – the scratches on her face, the missing wand, the watch broken at seven minutes past midnight – could so easily be answered, if only she had given him the truth. But she hadn't been able to. She hadn't been able to admit to what had really happened that night, because it wasn't just her secret.

It was hers and Narcissa's, and all this time, she had clung to the belief that no matter how much Narcissa hated her, some part of her had still cared enough to protect her.

But now, looking down at the broken wand, she wondered if that was true. If Narcissa had really cared at all about her, why would she have held on to the one piece of evidence that could condemn her? Unless…

"You held onto it. In case you ever needed to get back at me. In case all your attempts to ruin my life didn't work," Lily said, trying to keep her tone level as she picked up the thin pieces of wood. It was the wand that had taken her through Hogwarts, it was the wand with which she had cast her very first spell.

It was the wand that had saved her life… and taken another.

"It could easily… turn up somewhere. They would find it, figure out it was mine, perform Priori Incantatem … and they would see the killing curse," Lily continued. She lifted accusing green eyes to Narcissa. "It wasn't your insurance policy. In case I beat you somehow."

"Do you really believe you could have ever beaten me?" Narcissa asked with a chuckle.

Lily exhaled sharply. "I might have," she said defiantly.

Narcissa gave her a bemused look, the type one might bestow on a child. "Revenge is much sweeter if it is personal. What good would it do me to send you to Azkaban if it meant you were out of my reach? It is more satisfying to cause pain myself."

"That's why you let slip about the Lestrange threatening me," Lily surmised. "That's why you testified to the Wizengamot that the prosecutor of the case already had a reason for wanting me to suffer. So they would be suspicious of his motives and more likely to let me go… so that you could torment me yourself."

"Perhaps."

She lifted the ends of the shawl and wrapped them around the wand once more, then handed the bundle to Narcissa. She knew it was probably foolish to hand such evidence back to someone who would have no hesitation in using it against her, but she did not want to keep it. And she didn't really believe that Narcissa would do such a thing. Not now. Not with the war starting.

The blonde took the cloth in her hands and held it tightly. She settled herself on the sofa opposite Lily and continued to stare at her with a completely unreadable expression.

"The past seven years was revenge against me for the role I had played in killing your husband. But what you did these past couple weeks, that was revenge against _him_," Lily said. "That was revenge for the role _he_ played in your husband's death."

Narcissa considered this carefully, her lips pursed together. Lily thought she might not answer the implied question, but, after a few moments of silence, she said, "Imagine my surprise to find out from my sister that Lupin was dead."

"Bellatrix told you why he had been killed," Lily surmised.

"Of course," Narcissa said dismissively. "Why wouldn't she? We both knew what he was doing with those werwolves. What he was looking for."

"And what he found," Lily added.

Narcissa did not confirm that. Instead, she said, "A war is coming. _He_ wants power, and he will do anything necessary to take it. The last seven years, he was just biding his time. Waiting until he could raise a large enough army, until he had enough support. Ever since you, Evans, thwarted his plans…"

"I didn't know Malfoy was supposed to become Minister of Magic," Lily snapped irritably.

"Didn't you?" Narcissa countered with a cool smile. "Tell me about that last argument you had with my husband at St. Mungo's. Tell me what happened _then_." And there was a definite challenge in her voice.

Lily looked away. "It was seven years ago. I don't… I don't remember…"

"Really?" Narcissa asked sardonically. "Well, perhaps you did not know all the details. But you knew enough." Lily said nothing, just stared at Narcissa in stubborn silence, and the blonde shook her head, and then sighed. "I begged Lucius not to do this. Not to become one of _them_."

"A Death Eater," Lily said, and it was the first time either of them had admitted to that aloud. They both knew what Lucius was, what he had believed in, who he had served, but…

"Yes," Narcissa said, biting off the word. "The Dark Lord had great plans, I don't deny that. But I could see what Lucius could not – that he had no regard for his followers. We were expendable, and I did not want Lucius to take such a role. Let someone else become a puppet Minister, let someone else lead the war on our society. He had a wife and a son to think of… I begged, I pleaded… but it made no difference." Her eyes were hard, her tone flat, as she finished, "You might have killed him, Evans, but it was the Dark Lord who put him in mortal danger."

"And you were afraid of him," Lily added, studying Narcissa carefully. She had had a long time to think over this detail, and she was almost positive that she was correct in her assumptions. She'd never had a chance to ask Narcissa about it before, but now…

Now she had to confirm the truth.

"You were afraid of Lucius. Of the person he was becoming. He was always cruel and arrogant, but he was changing. He was becoming more callous, more vicious… more indifferent to you and your son. He wasn't the man you married anymore, was he? Your precious Dark Lord saw to that."

Narcissa did not reply.

"Just like he had taken the rest of your family from you, too. Your sister might have always been crazy, and maybe her husband was always evil, but they were changing, too. And you were afraid of them. You were afraid of Bellatrix, because you were certain she would betray you without any hesitation if her Lord asked her to. She stopped carrying about you, and Lucius was already following in her footsteps…"

"You couldn't leave us alone," Narcissa interrupted angrily. "Do you really think he didn't know what you said to me all those times you tried to convince me to leave him? Do you think I didn't tell him?" She laughed softly, darkly. "Do you remember those conversations? Do you remember all the times you told me he would be a lousy father? He would turn my son into a killer? You never accused him of being a Death Eater, not outright, but… you knew."

"And so did you," Lily murmured. "We both knew what he was, even if neither of us said it. And you knew I was right. You loved him, I understand that. And you could not help but want to be with him forever. And yet… you knew the person he had become, and that night… when you saw what he tried to do to me, when you heard the words he was yelling… You were afraid. You were afraid that one day he would try to do the same to you… or he would hurt Draco. And when you saw that flash of green light, part of you felt _relief_."

Two small circles of red had appeared on Narcissa's cheeks. Her hands clenched tightly around the shawl, her knuckles going white. Her lips were pressed into a single thin line, and her pale eyes were filled with stormy fury, but she said nothing.

"You're smart, Narcissa," Lily continued. "Smart enough to know that your sister and brother-in-law will drag you and your son into this war. And you don't want that. You don't want Draco to get hurt, and you don't want him to become his father. And you blame the Dark Lord for doing this to you. You want to stop him. You want him to lose this war. But you can't admit that to anyone, not without putting yourself and your son in danger. So you've been quiet about your actions. You've been subtle, cautious… but you still succeeded, didn't you?"

And for one brief moment, Narcissa allowed a triumphant smile to play across her features.

"It was Bellatrix who attacked Frank at Remus' house, wasn't it? Bellatrix, who loves fire-magic and who is mad enough to use Fiendfyre with no regard for the consequences. Bellatrix, who would throw a fit when she did not find what she was looking for, Bellatrix who would tear the sheets apart and smash the mirror solely because she was livid and wanted to be destructive."

Lily paused, considering her options, and then decided to press onwards. She could have waited, could have opted to see if Narcissa would admit to the truth on her own, but it was far easier – and probably far quicker – to offer her own guesses and see what the other witch said.

"Bellatrix came back and told you that she couldn't find what she was looking for at Remus' apartment. And you knew from Lestrange that I had been the one to find Remus' body. You knew I hadn't killed him – you knew I would _never_ kill him – which meant you guessed that I was there because he was trying to get my help."

"He loved you," Narcissa said softly. She leaned back against the cushions on the sofa and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind one ear. "It was obvious that he had always been in love with you, ever since the first moment you two met. No amount of fighting, and no amount of time apart, could change that. He was always a remarkable fool. And when Bellatrix came back and said she hadn't found what she was looking for, she hadn't found what Lupin had stolen…"

"You guessed that it was at my flat. You guessed that Remus was smart enough not to keep it at his own home, and that one way or another, he had hidden it at my flat. Because I was the only friend he had left, because he trusted me, because he loved me."

"Not that it helped him any in the end," Narcissa interjected pointedly.

Lily forced herself not to think about that comment, not to remember Remus lying lifelessly on the floor, his broken body covered in blood. She pressed on, "But you also knew he wouldn't tell me, because he was afraid that someone would find out I knew and would come after me. So you assumed that, since I didn't know where it was, I would not have had a chance to tell James. And he would not have had a chance to find it. You knew that it was still where Remus had left it…"

"Because if Potter had known, he would have told Black right away, and no doubt we would have heard about it. That darling cousin of mine was never particularly good at keeping his mouth shut," Narcissa said smugly.

"And so you went to my flat and you searched the place. You found it, Narcissa. You're the one who took it."

It wasn't a question, and Narcissa didn't answer. She simply gazed at Lily.

"Give it to me," Lily ordered tersely.

"Why would I?" Narcissa scoffed in disbelief.

"Because you know as well as I do that Dumbledore is the only one who can win this war," Lily answered. "Whatever it was that Remus stole, whatever it was that got him killed… it needs to go to Dumbledore. It _needs_ to. And I can give it to him. I can give it to him, I can say I had it all along, and no one ever needs to know that you were the one who took it. No one needs to know that you acted against Lord Voldemort."

Narcissa shuddered at the name. But there was a calculating look in her eyes, as though she was assessing Lily's words, weighing her options and determining how to best proceed.

"Come on, Cissy," Lily pressed. "You want revenge for Malfoy's death. And these past seven years, you've gotten your revenge against me. But these past few weeks have been about _him_, about what _he_ did to your family. Finish what you started, Cissy. Get your revenge against Voldemort."

* * *

She still thought about _that_ night. She'd thought about it a lot over the past seven years, and despite all of her dislike for Narcissa, despite her bitter anger over what the other witch had done, despite her grief over her ruined life, one thought lingered in her mind.

Malfoy had been drunk and filled with rage and his words had been incoherent at best, but he had said…

"_You spoke to Narcissa. You told her what I was doing. She asked me about it, she wanted… she listened to you. To you! You're nothing. Trash. Mudblood. And she… she listened…"_

What did that mean?

_She listened._

She hadn't always listened. Lily had spent years trying to convince Narcissa that she didn't need to be blinded by her family's prejudice, that she was strong enough and independent enough to know the difference between wrong and right. And Narcissa did not heed anything she said.

Until she told Narcissa that Malfoy was involved in Voldemort's plans. She never said the words _Death Eater_ aloud, but Narcissa had known what she was implying, what the consequences of it would be for all of them.

It was odd to think about it, but it was something she could not ignore. Something she had not mentioned to Narcissa, something she would never mention to anyone. Whatever else Narcissa had said or done in the past, when Lily had come to her with accusations of Malfoy heading down a very, very dangerous road…

She had listened.

That night had changed everything, for all of them. But when Lily thought about it, she did not spend much time thinking of the flash of green light or the feel of Malfoy's fingers on her throat. She thought instead about Malfoy's statement, about Narcissa's subsequent actions. Whatever the blonde witch might say about her own motives and reasons, it did not change the fact that she had taken Lily's wand and Lily's secret, and she had not told a soul.

That night, she had saved Lily's life.

Lily left Malfoy Manor with the object hidden within the folds of her traveling cloak. She would hand it over to Dumbledore, tell him that she had found it before she went to Remus' the night he had died, and she had hidden it, just in case. That she had lied to them all because she was worried that someone was spying on her, and she didn't want the wrong people to hear its location.

The blonde aristocratic witch had kept her confidence once, and now she would return the favor.

Narcissa's secret would be safe.

* * *

AN: Only one chapter left...


	22. One of the Good Guys

Chapter Twenty-Two: One of the Good Guys

He was waiting for her when she arrived outside of his office, and although his ability to know not only that she was coming but _why_ she was coming should not have surprised her, Lily did feel a little unnerved by the significant expression in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said politely, gesturing towards the chair opposite his desk.

Lily sank into it wearily, feeling drained from the events of the past several days. The trial had taken most of her strength and energy, but it was the conversation with Narcissa that had left her feeling so emotionally spent. As usual, the blonde witch had managed to get under her skin for reasons Lily couldn't quite comprehend, and she felt the echoes of vague regrets left behind.

If only things had been different…

The object felt heavy in her arms. It was wrapped in cloth – she had no idea why it was so important, but if Voldemort wanted it back so desperately, it could be dangerous, and she was not foolish enough to touch it with her bare hands – and was resting in her lap.

Dumbledore looked at it, his expression thoughtful.

"Do you know what it is?" Lily asked tentatively. Of course, he couldn't know what it was, he hadn't seen it yet. But she was really asking if he knew why it wasn't important, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he knew a lot more than he was saying.

She wasn't the only one who had kept secrets, and she had gotten fairly good and determining of other people were lying to her. She could see it in their eyes – the reflection of all the conflicting emotions she had felt for seven years.

She just wanted this all to be over, and wasn't that ironic, given that it was only now truly beginning?

"I have my suspicions," Dumbledore replied, extending one hand. "May I?"

She handed it to him.

"Where was it?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had it," Lily replied, the ready-made lie falling easily from her lips. "Remus gave it to me. I knew it was why he had been killed and I… I wasn't sure who I could trust. That's why I never told you or James that I had it."

Dumbledore looked up at her, his blue eyes scrutinizing her expression. She met his gaze, refusing to back down, refusing to flinch. She had made a promise, and she was not going to break it. She was not going to take the chance that Voldemort could discover who had really found the object in question.

Narcissa's life depended on it.

But Dumbledore gave a faint half-smile and said, "It is always reassuring to see that some aspects of a friendship may remain, despite all obstacles. It gives us hope that there are things worth protecting in this world."

And Lily knew he wasn't referring to her friendship with Remus.

But he said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he placed the unopened object on his desk and asked seriously, "Have you considered what you plan to do now?"

Lily shrugged. "Live my life as best I can," she answered.

"And what of the war?" Dumbledore asked. "Because it is coming, and it is coming soon."

Lily nodded and averted her gaze quickly. "I want to… to help," she said slowly, thinking of James. Of his determined statement that war changed everything.

"You are reluctant," Dumbledore said bluntly.

She shrugged again. "Maybe. I don't like war. I don't like intrigue or fighting or… or any of this." She had spent the last seven years of her life fighting just to stay alive, stay afloat. It had been a different kind of battle with very different stakes, but the enemy had been the same.

It was Voldemort. It all came back to Voldemort.

"Nobody even knows about him," Lily said softly. "No one even knows who he is. How can someone cause so much trouble, so much pain, without even…" She trailed off and chewed her lip.

"Voldemort's power lies in his ability to spread discord," Dumbledore answered gently. "Our strength lies in our ability to form connections. There are good people involved in this fight, Lily. There are people who understand that these are things worth fighting for."

"Worth dying for," Lily countered, thinking of Remus with a heavy heart.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed.

"Will we ever find out who killed him?" Lily questioned.

Dumbledore leaned forward and said firmly, "Voldemort killed him, Lily. Not directly, of course, but he is ultimately responsible for this. For all of it."

Lily nodded. "I want to help," she said again, this time feeling more determination and resolve in her words. "I want to help stop him."

She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to get embroiled in another struggle that would slowly and steadily take away everything she cared about. She had already lost too much, and she wasn't sure she could survive losing much more.

"James didn't remember me," Lily said. "He didn't remember that we'd met at Hogwarts. And it's funny, because… my first interaction with him was because of Narcissa."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"This was long before Narcissa and I were friends. James and Sirius Black were picking on Sirius' younger brother Regulus. They didn't have a reason for it, just… just for fun. And Narcissa… she came out and defended him. It was just her against James and Sirius, and they were older than her, but she hexed them anyway. James was a bully then… and so was Sirius. But Narcissa…"

She stopped, unsure exactly what she was trying to say. Narcissa had been different then. She had been someone that Lily could actually like, someone who Lily even appreciated. That was a version of Narcissa she had not seen in years.

Until that brief moment when Narcissa had pressed the object into Lily's hands and told her to take it to Dumbledore and to stop Voldemort.

James had changed, too, that much was obvious. She hadn't interacted with him enough at Hogwarts to know if perhaps he had grown up while still at school, but those first few years…

He had been a bully.

But now James was fighting this battle, one that he only knew about because of her. He was fighting a war that he didn't really even need to fight. Even if the entire society was turned on its head, he was still a wealthy pureblood from a prestigious family, and his life wouldn't be much changed. He was doing this, risking everything, solely so that he could protect Muggles and Muggleborns…

Because he was one of the good guys.

She respected James for the man he was now, just like she respected Narcissa for the girl she had been then.

"I want to help," she said again, and meant it.

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. The Order of the Phoenix will be lucky to have your help." Then he paused and answered, "But I don't mean to pressure you. There are many other ways you can help as well, and joining the Order will be dangerous."

There was a long silence as Lily looked around the room, taking in the objects on the shelves, the books scattered over the desk, the phoenix perched on the stand near the door. It felt odd, being here, being in this room, being treated like an equal by the greatest wizard in the world.

She looked down at the cloth-wrapped object on his desk. "Why is that important?" she asked again.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and carefully unwrapped the object. "Voldemort isn't rushing into anything. He's planning and plotting… he doesn't mind allowing years to pass in order to make sure everything works out the way he wants it to. Time means nothing to him… and this tells us why."

* * *

"As each of you know by now," Dumbledore began gravely, addressing the four people before him, "a Dark wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort has been threatening the very fabric of our society. Several years ago, I founded an organization called the Order of the Phoenix. While the Order has not been active for these past seven years, times have now changed, and I believe we must prepare ourselves for war."

James was nodding seriously, and Marlene looked intrigued. Frank's expression was dark, and Dumbledore had a suspicion that he was thinking of Alice.

It was Sirius Black, however, who concerned him the most. He did not doubt Sirius' dedication to eradicating the threat posed by Voldemort, but the young wizard was leaning forward, his eyes willed with anticipation and excitement. Dumbledore could not help but worry that his recklessness might lead him into some danger.

But Sirius was also the most promising candidate to join the Order because, unlike the others, he understood how Dark wizards and pureblood supremacists thought. He'd grown up with them, after all.

And that thought made Dumbledore wonder if James had confided in Sirius about his suspicions regarding Regulus Black.

"I would like to ask you," he continued seriously, "to join the Order. However," and here he held up hand to stop them from answering immediately, "I want you to think about it until tomorrow. This is not a decision to be made lightly. You will face danger and darkness unlike anything you have seen before."

Sirius snorted.

"I assure you," Dumbledore continued, "that Voldemort is more than just another Dark wizard."

"Um… sir… Albus…" James asked tentatively, "why isn't Lily here?"

"I spoke to Miss Evans this morning," Dumbledore answered. "I have already requested that she join the Order."

James relaxed slightly at that, and Sirius rolled his eyes. Even Marlene was hiding back a small smile at James' reaction to the answer.

"There is still so much we don't know," Frank said after a pause. "About Remus, about what really happened… We don't know who killed him."

"Lord Voldemort killed him," Dumbledore answered flatly. "And he is the one we must stop."

"I'm ready to join," Sirius said. "I don't need a day to think over my answer. I want to fight. I'm ready."

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and placed them on his desk. The problem with being over a century old is that he had taught almost everyone in the Order. They were all his students, and he still thought of them as such. Even the ones who were much older, even Alastor Moody or Minerva McGonagall…

It was hard to look at them and see the men and women they had grown into. It was easier to see the children they had been, and to know that he was sending children into war…

"I still ask that you take time to think over your answer," he said finally. "Even if your answer doesn't change, I want you to think about it. To really think it through."

"Yes, sir," Marlene said softly.

"What about the object, sir? Uh… I mean, Albus. What about whatever Lupin had stolen?" James asked.

"Ah… yes." Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked over to the cabinet on the far wall. He pulled it open and removed a bundle of cloth. Holding it carefully in his hands, he walked back to his desk.

The other four were all leaning forward anxiously, waiting with abated breath.

"We may never know the exact details of how this came to be in Mr. Lupin's possession," Dumbledore said, placing the bundle on the desk. "If I may venture a guess, I would say that Voldemort entrusted it to one of his followers without telling them what it was. They did not know how very valuable it was to their Lord, or they would have taken much better precautions."

"And Lupin found it somehow?" Sirius demanded. "But… how? And how did you get it?"

"It was given to me very recently," Dumbledore answered, "and I unfortunately can't tell you any more than that. Let us just say that too many lives are at stake… but it was given to me by someone whom I trust implicitly."

James nodded, Frank frowned, Marlene eyed the book thoughtfully, and Sirius looked as though he wanted to protest the secrets.

Then James asked, "And how did Lupin get it?"

"Again, this is all supposition. Voldemort had some of his followers recruiting werewolves. I had warned him to be alert for any of these people. Perhaps he stumbled across them at one point, or perhaps he found himself in the presence of Voldemort himself. Either way, I think it was entirely by accident that Mr. Lupin acquired this."

He pulled out his wand and waved it at the object. The clothing slowly unfolded itself, revealing an ordinary looking book.

"I think he probably didn't even know what he had found," Dumbledore continued, waving his wand again and causing the book to open, displaying its blank pages. "But he figured out very quickly that Voldemort wanted it back, and knowing that meant it was important, he took it and fled."

"And he was followed and killed for that?" Marlene asked skeptically, shaking her head. "It's just a book. A _blank_ book."

"It isn't just a book," Dumbledore corrected. "It's a diary. A diary that once belonged to a boy – a brilliant and talented Hogwarts student – by the name of Tom Riddle."

* * *

"Are you going to join the Order?" James asked as Lily settled herself into the seat opposite him. It was the first time they had spoken without having to worry about the trial. It was the first time he had seen her outside of the Ministry.

It was the first time she had been in his home.

He felt awkward about inviting her over, but she had responded immediately to the request, assuring him that she did want to see him again.

Which was a relief to hear, given that he had kissed her just the day before.

"I think so," Lily answered. "When I spoke to Dumbledore… I want to stop Voldemort."

James nodded in agreement. It was hard to think of the right words to say. He wasn't sure how to start a conversation – wasn't really sure if this was a date or just two friends spending time together – and so he found himself falling back onto the subjects he knew would interest her.

"Did Dumbledore tell you about Lupin… uh, Remus… about what he found?"

"The diary?" Lily asked. She had flushed slightly, and looked embarrassed, and James felt a sudden suspicion that she knew a lot more than he did about this. But she just said, "Yes, he told me all his theories. I wish…" She paused, drew a breath. "It's hard to resign myself to the thought that I may never know who killed Remus."

James reached out and took her hand in his, gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish we could… I know I promised I would help you get justice for him. I'm sorry there isn't more I can do."

Lily smiled gratefully in reply. "I know. I… thank you. You've already done more than enough, James." Then she closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "Dumbledore kept reminding me that it was really Voldemort who was to blame. All Voldemort. But it's not… it's not the same thing. Even if Voldemort was behind it all… he wasn't the one who stabbed Remus. He wasn't the one who physically killed him. And I wanted to know…"

"You wanted justice for Remus," James said. "And we can get that. Stopping Voldemort is justice. It might not feel like enough, and it might never answer your questions, but… it is a kind of justice."

She looked so forlorn at that reply, and James wished silently that there was more he could say. He wanted, just once, just for a moment, to be able to tell her that life could be fair and they could get all the answers they wanted and the justice they needed.

He thought about the diary. "How much did you know?" he asked, and she didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"More than you did," she answered.

James sighed. "Yeah, I know that."

"Have you told Sirius about his brother?" she questioned.

James shook his head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, after we go back and tell Dumbledore that we're going to join the Order…I'll tell him then."

"Why are you so reluctant to tell him?" Lily asked. "It's his brother. He has a right to know."

James hesitated. How could he explain to Lily that he was afraid Sirius would do something stupid and get himself killed? Just because Regulus was questioning his loyalties to Voldemort didn't mean he was going to change sides. If he truly wanted to renounce his ties to Voldemort, why hadn't he gone to Dumbledore? Why had he been so secretive about everything?

What would happen if Sirius found out that Regulus was questioning his loyalties and tried to talk to him, only to have Regulus turn on him? Whatever Sirius might say about his lack of feelings for any member of his family, he did care about his brother. He did want to protect him.

It would destroy him to come so close to saving him, only to lose him again.

"You said we'd figure something out together," he replied at last. "We'd figure out how to tell him."

"And we will," Lily answered. "But you have to tell me what specifically you are afraid of, or I can't really help you figure out how to avoid it. And you don't want to keep this to yourself forever. It will destroy you."

She had an odd expression in her eyes, and she wasn't looking at him anymore. He wondered if she was even still talking to him, or if this was a conversation she was having with herself.

"Secrets," James agreed. "Always a problem."

Lily laughed. "Yes."

James thought idly that it was nice to hear her laugh without any fear in her voice.

Then she sobered and said, "James… I think we need to talk. I… there are things I need to tell you."

James' eyes widened in surprise. He could see the hesitation in her face and knew exactly what the subject would be. "The diary," he said. "The missing seven minutes. What really happened with Malfoy." She nodded, and he found something that it didn't matter anymore. He knew that there was so much he still didn't understand, but he understood enough.

And he trusted her.

Whatever her reasons for keeping quiet were now, they were no longer what they used to be. He knew it wasn't that she didn't trust him. All her lies in the beginning had revolved around that, around her own initial dislike and distrust. But now she was lying to protect other people, and he understood that.

He'd just spend quite a bit of time lying to his best mate, after all. How could he blame her for keeping secrets to protect other people when he had been doing exactly the same thing with Sirius?

"You don't need to tell me," he said. "Whatever it is, I don't need to know. I trust you."

"I know," Lily agreed with a tentative smile. "But I… I want you to know. I really like you, James, and I want… I want to tell you the truth. About me, about Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, about the diary… the whole truth. You should know. You deserve to know."

James blinked several times. He wasn't really listening. He had stopped listening at the point when she said she really liked him.

"I really like you, too," James offered after a moment.

Lily grinned. "I know," she replied. "Otherwise you wouldn't have kissed me yesterday."

"How do you know I don't kiss all of my clients at the end of a successful trial?" James retorted pointedly.

Lily raised her eyebrows. "That was _quite_ a kiss. I'm not sure all of your clients would appreciate it."

James chuckled. "Probably not," he agreed. Then he thought back to what they had been talking about before the momentary detour in topics, and asked, "Why do I deserve to know? Is it just because I am a good kisser?"

"I never said you were a _good_ kisser," Lily retorted. "I just said it was quite a kiss. Maybe it was bad. Maybe you're really lousy at snogging and I was just commenting on that."

"I'm not a bad kisser," James said firmly.

Lily smirked. "Well, it's good to know you haven't lost all of your arrogance." They were quiet for a moment, and then Lily said in a serious tone, "You risked so much, fighting Lestrange. You fought him, and Bones, and… and even Voldemort. And I know it started out as part of your own agenda, part of your own personal grudge against Lestrange, but… it changed. You changed. You did all of this because… because it was the right thing to do."

James shrugged. "It _was_ the right thing to do."

"That's why you deserve to know," Lily said, moving closer to him, leaning forward until they were just centimeters apart, close enough that James could count the freckles on her skin and each individual eyelash.

He swallowed nervously and realized that his heart-rate had just sky-rocketed.

Lily kissed him softly, gently, and whispered, "Don't you see, James? It's because you're one of the good guys."

* * *

A/N: And we're done, finally. It felt very odd (and a little sad) to change the status to "complete."

I'm working on a story for another fandom at the moment, but will be back to HP soon. I've been planning another Lily/James story, tentatively entitled _While You Tell Me Stories_. So keep your eyes out for the first chapter to be posted some time in September.


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